Grand Illusion
by Happys Hitwoman
Summary: Nothing is ever what it seems. Sometimes we have to go below the surface to discover who we truly are. And for Daisy McKay, a certain biker has already found this out. Part 4 of the 'Redemption' saga
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Okay, everyone. This is my final installment in the saga. Took me a while to get inspired as Season 5 is anything but, however, last night's episode sucked me back in. Not to spoil anything, but Theo Rossi KILLED it and my heart is slowly belonging to Tommy Flannigan. **

**This is Tig & Daisy's story which I had to carefully craft somewhat believable circumstances due to the night and day personalities they are. But I think I've evolved Daisy enough via being Amanda's friend that I can pull it off (hopefully!) There will be NO remnants of Season 5 in this story and all plots and club business are original. Other club members/OCs will appear, but will not overtake the main characters.**

**I do not own anything created by the thin-skinned, rude, insulting and childish Mr. Sutter (as he is on his Twitter feed) – just Amanda Carson, Eve Taylor, Ezra Phillips and, of course, my favorite little well dressed stiff ass!**

**As with my last two stories, this will be fast paced and short (not sure how many chapters yet though)**

**Please enjoy & review!**

**~/~**

**Chapter One**

**Tuesday**

**December 25th, 2012**

Evidence of the day assailed him from every corner of the house.

The seasonal red and green mixed with silver and gold. The pungent scent of a fat, blue spruce alive with an annoying display of twinkling lights, hastily tossed on tinsel, assortment of multi-color bulbs, wooden and plastic figurines and salt-dough shaped blobs colored with children's finger-paint.

Co-mingling aromas of turkey, ham, sweet potato casserole and fresh baked bread had dissipated once the buffet table was cleared to make way for the pleasing sweetness of sugar cookies, cheesecake, chocolate trifle and a God-awful fruitcake which someone brought as a joke. Strong coffee spiked with Sambuca, eggnog nipped with rum, empty shot-glasses awaiting another round of Chevis Regal completed a day of delicious food, strong drink and good company.

The little latino did good for himself, Tig thought as he surveyed the once-foreclosed dump Juice turned into a warm, inviting home for his old lady and kid. An Ortiz-hosted holiday wasn't the same – not after years of spending the Yule at Clay and Gemma's. But after the undertaking on Thanksgiving, the club's intel officer-slash-Secretary offered up his new home for Christmas. The little, two-bedroom starter wasn't the Teller-Morrow spread, but a knocked-out wall in the kitchen which sliding doors led to a large, Redwood deck offered the spaciousness needed.

Around the patio furniture, the men enjoyed after-dinner cigars while Juice and Ope's old ladies stood before a custom-built brick fire pit turning graham crackers, Hershey bars and giant marshmallows into messy 'Smores. Inside, tired children spread out in the living room watching animated Christmas favorites set to continuously loop over through a sixty-inch flat-screen television. Among them, an eighty pound boxer had collapsed on the floor – clearly worn out from chasing them around the backyard most of the afternoon.

As night began to color the sky, a tranquility set in. The threat of not consistently being under a microscope had began to fade. Men seemed more at ease, warm smiles replaced tension-filled looks, laughter seemed more frequent and guards had slightly been let down. Homes, plans – even children were being made. As he and his brothers knocked back a celebratory shot in honor of Hap's impending fatherhood, Tig couldn't hold back a twisted look on his face as the liquor burned his throat. It was hard to imagine one of the charter's most feared and chilling members jerking off in prison, let alone willingly in a dark room with an outdated, sticky Penthouse.

Heading to the counter which doubled as a bar, he eyed the selections before settling upon Paul Masson Grand Amber brandy. Pouring himself a healthy glass straight up, the irony between him wandering around inside the house in some sort of state of misplacement while the others sat around the deck outside was telling. For the first time in almost two decades, Tig felt a separation between himself and the rest of his brothers. It was as if he was in some temporary state of flux as to where his place was.

At the end of the day, it seemed as if everyone else had their own, private oasis to escape to whereas the clubhouse still served as a Tig's permanent sanctuary. He had long given up the cabin as the quiet, blackness which surrounded it unsettled him more than the white noise of the clubhouse. Maybe it was time to consider his own place. Even Maniac settled into a little apartment on the edge of town – a sign he was following the club's new lead and establishing a balance between his two lives.

Walking into the kitchen, Amanda stopped short upon seeing Tig – attempting to wipe chocolate from her chin with as much ladylike semblance possible even as the melted chocolate from the 'Smores drizzled down her wrist. "Yeah….busted," she awkwardly joked, putting the gooey treat down and heading for the sink to wash her hands.

Making small talk with women – old ladies, and especially crow eaters – was never Tig's forte, Gemma being the only woman he could allow into his comfort zone. And Hap's old lady definitely took him out of it, especially after the near-fatal events of three months ago.

The fact she was friends with a certain, little stiff-ass who passed through his thoughts when he was bored and had nothing else better to think about didn't factor into the equation.

"Eatin' for two?" he asked, wincing immediately afterwards. He sucked at this. He should just take his brandy and leave, but sometimes he was his own worst enemy.

Wiping her hands on a square of paper towel, Amanda rolled her eyes. "I think I'm eating for Octo-Mom," she joked. "I was craving those things, so I told Eve I'd bring the ingredients here. I didn't want to be the only one."

She was giving him more information than he cared to know, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away. His stupidity could've cost this woman her life and, somehow, he felt as if he 'owed' her so the least he could do was hang back and listen to her rattle on about babies, cravings and shit.

"It's good news," he finally said, keeping it brief, before the word vomit came out, "you know, especially after…..you know." Rubbing his forehead, Tig downed the brandy, hoping swallowing would keep him from sticking his foot in his mouth.

"It's in the past, Tig," she assured him. "You can let it go."

There was too much in his past to ever fully purge. Marines, marriage to a woman who loathed him, children who barely tolerated his non-presence, Donna Winston, Veronica Pope – the list went on and on. He often wondered if he could ever settle into some sort of normal 'home life' – at least, whatever his definition of 'normal' was. "Yeah. I know. Sorry."

Gemma joined them cutting through the awkwardness, hands filled with dirty disposable plates, cutlery and napkins. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the two before they settled upon Amanda. "You missed a spot," she said, pointing to the base of Amanda's neck. "How the heck did you get chocolate there?"

Wetting a paper towel, Amanda wiped the spot. "Why doesn't someone just throw me a feed-bag and be done with it?"she huffed.

"First trimester, darlin'. Turns every woman ravenous."

Amanda grimaced when the cell phone in her pocket went off. "Uh, oh," she said, pulling it out."

"Who's calling you Christmas night?" Gemma asked, sneaking a peek at the display before it went blank after one ring. She pursed her lips then smirked. "Daisy? Thought you said she was dining with the future in-laws?" Tig downed the rest of his brandy, trying to look disinterested in the conversation.

"She is, but I'm guessing she needs some reprieve. This ring was a signal. Gotta call her back."

Tig was now left alone with Gemma who put a hand on his shoulder. "Why you hiding in here, darlin'?"

"I ain't hidin'," he retorted, going for a refill.

"You look….misplaced."

"Whatever."

"Hey," she told him. "Been almost three months. I know you've been going along, but you haven't fell in line."

Tig shook his head as he took a sip from his glass. "Somethin' just don't feel right, Gem. _It _just don't feel right."

"_It_ meaning…..the club?" Tig just shrugged in response. "You know, maybe it's not the club. Maybe it's you."

"_Me?"_

"Yeah, you. It's a different era, Tigger. Different time. Different players. But the game stays the same. Just….a little safer. Face it, you're getting a little old for thrills."

"Thanks."

"Listen," she said, offering him the kind of comfort he was able to receive. "This is good. It's all good. I want many more years of….this," she swept her hand around the house. "Christmas isn't the same behind cement walls, steel doors and metal bars."

She was right. Jax was right – arrogant little prick he was. Creating more legit business to hide behind when they have to pull back and be outlaw once in a while was smart. Lockup aside, he missed the danger, the rush, the…_thrill_. But he wasn't twenty years old. Hell, he was more than double that. Perhaps the sooner he realized that the sooner he could come to grips with the changing scenery and embrace it. "Got no idea where to start. I dunno – maybe get a small crib in town."

"Good idea. Stop making that clubhouse your home. Who knows – maybe find yourself some little chica who can put up with your shit."

"I ain't doin' marriage again," he emphatically stated. "Or kids. Or mortgages. Or…..dogs." He then paused and thought. "Well, maybe."

"Have Juice look into the pounds."

Tig shook his head. "Nay, forget it."

"It'll prove you can move on," Gemma told him.

She was right. He had to start somewhere.

**~A~**

The indignity of hiding out in the bathroom stall of a five star restaurant while on the phone was the last thing Daisy McKay was concerned with. Escaping the pretentious conversation of Mr. & Mrs Warren Reese was. Christmas dinner with her future in-laws wasn't what she envisioned. Evan's parents made her own Greenwich, Connecticut bred, country-club belonging parents look like country bumpkins. Warren was an energy broker while his wife Cassandra headed a franchise of three insurance firms from her family. Evan was steeped deep in priviledge and wealth – pretty much the same way she was before disgracing her parents in college with her cheesy, erotic film work.

Closing her cell phone, Daisy felt a bit better. For some reason she had anxiety about today, even though dinner at posh restaurants and meeting new people were never a problem for her in the past. She had relished them – anticipated the opportunity to dress up in her designer finest and put on her classiest act to stand with the best of them. But lately, she was slowly beginning to realize that's all it was – an act. A façade. A grand illusion where her pricey wardrobe was her armor and her prissy demeanor was her shield. All it took was one meeting with a woman she had pre-judged, whom she now has the good fortune to call 'friend' to see through her and a loathsome biker with unsettling blue eyes to call her out on it.

And it was that friend Daisy relied upon today. She had asked Amanda to be her 'wing-woman' if things got squirrely at dinner and needed some breathing room. So when the remnants of her main course of broiled duck in a lemon-orange glace was removed from her place setting she had reached into the black patent, croc purse on her lap and tapped the display of her phone until it she knew it completed one full ring – giving Amanda the signal to call back. After five minutes, she did – and Daisy excused herself. "Pardon me, Mr. & Mrs. Reese," she had said, standing from her high-back chair. "I think it's my parents."

"Tell them we said 'hello' and are looking forward to meeting them soon," Cassandra Reese said.

Smiling politely, Daisy then leaned down to kiss Evan on the cheek with a promise to be 'right back' as his parents gave them that sickening 'awwww' look. "Dessert and coffee?" Evan asked.

"Order for me," she told him, before escaping to the ladies room. But it wasn't her parents on the other end as she had lied. It was Amanda. Her friend. Her only friend. The woman who was straight up with her, causing her to loosen up – slightly. A woman whose own family wouldn't be caught dead in the crystal, chandelier lined dining room of the Cliquot de la Mer in Orange County.

"_Amanda?"_ Daisy had answered as soon as she was in the privacy of the French tiled ladies room

"_How's it going?"_ Amanda had asked on the other end.

What Daisy really wanted to do was beg for Amanda to endure the five hour ride south to come rescue her from hoity-toity hell. But she'd be opening herself up to hypocricy as this was supposed to her comfort zone. Instead, she felt extremely out of place, went blank as to what flatware to use, wasn't sure if red or white wine was best suited for duck, lied about her 'close' relationship with her parents and blanched when Evan's mother inquired as to whether her sleeveless, royal blue Mizrahi dress was genuine. Truth, she wanted to shoot right back and ask if her oyster-white Chanel suit was the real deal, but it would've been fruitless. From the suit, to the matching quilted purse and kitten-heeled slingbacks, Cassandra Reese was wearing around three thousand dollars worth of clothing and accessories on her pudgy frame.

"_Nevermind, I won't make you suffer the details,"_ Daisy had replied to Amanda. "_Tell me about your day instead."_

And Amanda did. All the talk of rich comfort food, giggling children, barking dogs, drinking, smoking and belching men no doubt dressed in the best distressed denim forty bucks could buy and old fashioned Christmas songs as she remembered them growing up playing in the background in their original form rather than reproduced on a piano and harp made Daisy smile. It was a stark contrast to her well-mannered six-course horror. "_Sounds…nice_," was all Daisy had been able to muster. It wasn't condescending in the least. She actually was envious.

"_Oh, and 'Smores,"_ Amanda added. _"Lots of 'Smores."_

"_What are those?"_

"_You're kidding – right?"_

Daisy wasn't kidding. She had heard of them, but never really knew what they were. If it wasn't something a culinary chef trained in Paris would make, her parents wouldn't have eaten it. _"No, I'm not. What are they? Tell me."_ She sounded desperate for any means to extend the conversation to keep from going back to the table to where some confection concoction whose name she wouldn't be able to pronounce no doubt awaited her.

"_Graham crackers with a square of Hershey's chocolate and a toasted marshmallow sandwiched between them,"_ Amanda answered.

"_Sounds messy."_ Honestly, it sounded perfect right now to Daisy.

"_They are. I'm working from home Friday. Come over for lunch and I'll make you one for dessert. I,uh….have some news for you."_

She wanted to press Amanda to tell her the news now, but glancing at her Movado watch, Daisy knew she had to get back to the table. Last thing she wanted was to be frowned upon for being absent. _"Okay. I'll drop you a text tomorrow. I've got to head back. Amanda…..thanks for giving me a break."_

"_Doesn't sound like it's going too well."_

"_It's….it's not that bad. Just feel…off my game, you know? I can't explain."_

"_We'll talk about it tomorrow."_

"_Okay. Thanks again. Bye." _

And that's when Daisy closed the phone and emerged from the mahogany stall where she'd been hiding out for ten minutes listening to every glorious detail of a laid-back biker Christmas whereas she was stuck in upper-crust hell. How she had changed her tune since meeting Amanda.

No. No, it wasn't all Amanda, she thought as she lifted the brass faucet to rinse her hands. It was…_him._ The him who she'd been trying to put out of her mind since that warm, September night he showed up on her doorstep. The only time she saw Tig after that was when he, Jax and Amanda's husband stopped by the farm to meet with Mister Oswald. Jax had politely congratulated her on her engagement to where Tig went out of his way not to pay her any mind. He purposefully ignored her – as if that moment between them never happened. It was obviously easy for him to forget.

For Daisy, it was impossible.

"Idiot," she said to herself as she dried her hands. She had made her choice. Rather than take Tig's advice to rethink her engagement to Evan, she decided to go ahead and marry him. To go forward, forget about all her past mistakes and be happy. But even her staunchest determination couldn't erase a memory of smoking, hot sex on her couch.

Smoothing her dress and straightening the wide, black, patent belt cinching her waist, she clicked matching pumps across the floor and exited the bathroom – running smack into a wall of white Chanel. "Oh, Daisy dear," Cassandra Reese exclaimed in a fake-sounding polished voice. "I was just coming to see if you were alright."

Tucking the phone into her clutch, Daisy tucked it between her arm and body. "Yes, I'm fine Mrs. Reese. After speaking with my parents, my friend called to see how my dinner was going." Lies, lies, lies!

"Must be a very good friend to keep you away from us," Cassandra remarked in a way to hide the sarcastic undertone. "Will she be your maid of honor?"

To be honest, Daisy hadn't thought of any wedding details yet. Evan wasn't pressing for a date and, for some reason, she wasn't in a hurry either. She figured he wanted to wait until the families met before beginning the planning stages. "I haven't asked her yet, but yes….she will be my _matron_ of honor. She's married."

"Oh how wonderful," Cassandra purred entering the ladies room. "Perhaps she and her husband can join us for dinner sometime so we can all meet?"

Yeah –_ that's_ not gonna happen, Daisy immediately thought. She could just picture Amanda's husband walking into a place like this. He'd probably disintegrate like the Wicked Witch of the West under a bucket of water. "Perhaps," she pacified. "I'll meet you back at the table."

Daisy shimmied herself between elegantly draped tables en route to hers which was sectioned off by a tri-fold screen with a French Provincial setting. Stopping just short of it, she pulled a compact out of her clutch to check her face even as Evan and his father spoke on the other side.

"You better square yourself away," Warren Reese told his son. "My money isn't there to pay your debt."

"Dad, I'm taking care of it," Evan countered. "Don't worry. I'll have it all paid off in a few months."

Warren chuckled. "How the hell do you plan to pay off a student loan and almost seventy five thousand dollars in credit card debt."

Daisy gasped on the other side, glancing back to lookout for Evan's mother as she continued to overhear.

"That's my business, okay, dad," Evan blew out. "Jesus, I wish I never told you."

"You think I was going to fork over any money to you without knowing what for? You dug yourself into this Evan, you dig it out. I didn't get where I was because my father handed it to me. You learn the hard way like I did."

"I said I'll handle it, okay," Evan shot back with annoyance.

"Oh, I can see that," his father retorted. "That diamond ring must've set you back."

"Not at all," was all Evan said. "Like I said, everything's under control. Got a good thing going with Elliott Oswald."

"Good. Maybe this time you can actually _keep_ a job," his father chided. "Not many good paying jobs out there for college drop-outs."

_Drop-out_? Daisy thought to herself. She clearly remembered Evan's resume stating he graduated from the University of Phoenix.

"And," Warren continued, "you're going to have a wife to take care of. Can't be dicking around from place to place."

Seeing a flash of white leave the ladies room, Daisy threw the compact back in her clutch then walked around the other side of the screen so both men wouldn't know she was standing behind it. "Sorry I took so long," she apologized, elegantly taking her seat.

Cassandra Reese then joined them just as demitasse cups filled with espresso and an assortment of liquors were placed in front of them. They were presented with the dessert cart displaying an array of fancy, plated sweets from which Evan selected two squares of tiramisu. "Your favorite," he said to Daisy.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, taking the plate.

"Can't keep that slender figure eating too many of those," Cassandra said with polite-sarcasm, even as she selected a French white ramkin dish filled with crème brulee. Daisy just smiled at the irony of that statement coming from a woman who was in desperate need of a corset under that fitted, white suit.

"Sambuca?" Evan offered to pour into her espresso. Was he going to spoon feed her too?

"No thank you," she replied, reaching for the kahlua. After hearing about those delicious 'Smores, she was suddenly in a chocolate mood. Evan looked perplexed, thinking he knew exactly what she liked. But he didn't.

Just like she suddenly had no idea who he was at this moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to all following this. I hope everyone in the northeast is doing well after the Hurricane. Just finished our massive cleanup here.**

**I forgot to point out that this story fills in the time jump at the end of the final chapter of Best Laid Plans. I'll do my best to keep the timeline accurate and moving.**

**Hope you enjoy and please drop me a review if you feel so inclined to let me know what you think so far. I'm two chapters ahead and we get some Tig/Daisy time next one!**

**Chapter Two**

**Friday**

**Three Days Later**

Bobby stood up from the picnic table upon seeing his president. "What's up?"

"Where's everyone?" Jax's eyes scanned the parking lot as he snapped his cell closed.

"Juice and Ope are in the garage. Chibs and Hap went to do a quick check on Sutter Creek. Maniac hasn't shown up and Phil's on dog patrol."

Again, Jax looked around to see Big Phil rough-housing with Tank while everyone else was either in the garage or on the road. "What about Tig?"

Bobby sighed and shrugged. "Don't know."

"Find out. Get the other two out of the garage then call Hap – see how long he and Chibs got till they get back. Get a hold of Clay too."

"Somethin' wrong?"

"Just got a call from Derrell. Somethin's goin' down which impacts our arrangement. Wants to know if we can intervene."

Bobby headed to the garage as he pulled his phone out. "On it."

**~A~**

Riding was all Tig felt he had left to do. The lazy days between Christmas and New Years were slow enough to where he just wanted to pull back. Gemma was right – he needed to establish some kind of separation between the two lives which, for almost two decades, had both seemed to blend into one.

He slowed down past a few multi-family houses with 'For Rent' signs on them. Far enough from the center of town, but not crossing over into the next. Quiet, but not too quiet. Peaceful. Still, to be either above or below someone else wasn't private enough for him. He didn't need neighbors bitching about him pulling his bike up the driveway at two in the morning or hearing a rocking bed accompanied by female screams. He was a private man who was in no mood to answer for his shit.

Right at the cusp of the Lodi border was what looked like a shack. Stopping his bike in front of it, he put a cigarette between his lips, lit it and…stared. Ranch-style, partial brick, non-descript landscaping, one-car detatched garage and a sturdy chain link fence. On one side was a package store – on the other, a stretch of wooded area which led to the entrance of Interstate five. The densely packed trees were enough to buffer the entering cars and the package store didn't exactly look as if it had streams of customers. Far enough to 'get away', but close enough to when he needed to roll.

Even as he thought that, his cell rang. Taking a final drag before tossing the butt to the ground, Tig exhaled the smoke heavily from his lungs before answering. "Yeah?"

"_What's your four-one-one Tigger?"_ Bobby asked.

"Close enough. Why?"

"_Jax got a call from Derrell. Need to convene. Be here in ten if you can_."

Good or bad, at least it was some action – finally. Seeing where his destination was in comparison the clubhouse, Tig did a mental calculation. "Make it twenty."

**~A~**

Something about visiting her friend Amanda brought a sense of ease to Daisy. Whereas in the past she was always self-conscious in order to always make an impression, she had learned to relax a bit when around the only person she had opened up to about her life, her past, her parents and her shameful college years. That level of ease resonated in how she dressed for her visit on a crisp, late December afternoon – fitted khaki's tucked into chocolate brown boots and a winter-white cashmere cardigan with pearl buttons. Still enough for her to feel fashionable, yet comfortable. Her mass of wavy hair was twisted into a loose knot on top, putting her expressive hazel eyes and delicate bone structure on display.

A belated Christmas gift wrapped in silver paper and a red, velvet ribbon in her hand, Daisy softly knocked on the back door of Amanda's house, only to be answered by a series of barks. Daisy was far from an animal person and was already fretting about having dog hair infiltrating her cashmere. Amanda opened the door with one hand while her other held her dog's skull-motif collar.

"Tank, calm down," Amanda scolded, backing the dog up in order to let Daisy in. "Sorry. The two of you really haven't been formally introduced."

Daisy inched her way in as the dog's bark mellowed to a 'woof'. "He's not going to jump me or anything?" Daisy asked.

"Only if you don't encourage him," Amanda replied. "Maniac likes to do that."

"Who?"

"Oh, sorry. One of the guys at the club." For a moment Daisy pondered if someone named 'Maniac' could be any worse than Tig. "Go ahead – sit down. He'll just do a mandatory sniff then lay across your feet."

Pulling a kitchen chair out, Daisy sat down and properly crossed her legs, allowing the big, boxer to investigate her boots with his nose even as her own crinkled at the wet-dog-nose stains on her boots. _Lighten up_, she told herself. "So, working from home all day?"

Amanda nodded as she took stuff out of the fridge. "Yeah. Lyla drops the kids off with friends while they're on Christmas break then opens the store. Erin relieves her around one, then I stop in at four to close with her." She held up a bowl. "Chicken, walnut and cranberry salad on crostini bread?"

"Sounds good," Daisy said, trapped in her spot at the table by an eighty pound canine.

"He likes you," Amanda noticed.

"I guess that's a good thing."

"He's very loyal – not to mention spoiled rotten," Amanda added as she made two sandwiches. Pouring two glasses of iced tea, she brought the plates and glasses over to the table. "How long have you got for lunch?"

"Need to be back at the farm by two," Daisy said, taking a sip from her glass. "Oh," she slid the gift across the table. "Belated Merry Christmas."

"Mmm," Amanda, hummed with a mouthful of iced tea herself. "Hold on." She bolted out of the room and returned with a wrapped gift of her own. "This is for you."

Daisy put her glass down and held the gift her friend just gave her. "Thanks," she quietly said.

"You okay?"

For some reason, Daisy felt like crying from a sudden burst of emotion. "Oh, yes. It's just….being out here all these years, I…..I can't remember the last time I exchanged Christmas gifts – especially with a friend. Go ahead. Open yours first."

Amanda did, tearing the silver paper and smiling at its contents. _"A Hundred And One Chocolate Recipes," _she repeated, reading the title of the cookbook.

"All that talk of 'Smores inspired me," Daisy said.

"This will _definitely_ get some use," Amanda smirked. "Go ahead. You next."

Unlike Amanda, Daisy carefully unpeeled the edges of the paper before sliding out a wedding journal. "I know how organized you are," Amanda explained. "Thought you may want to chronicle your wedding journey. Give that fountain pen of yours a good workout."

Daisy held the journal in one hand as her other smoothed itself across the cover. '_Our Wedding Journey'_ she read out loud. As a bride-to-be she should be jubilant – bursting with ideas to fill the book already, but since the little conversation she overheard between Evan and his father Christmas evening, her enthusiasm had been replaced with a bit of hesitation. Still, she didn't want to disappoint her friend who put thoughtfulness into this gift. "Thank you. So," she said, anxious to change the subject as she picked up her sandwich to take a bite. "What's this news you have to tell me?"

Amanda bit into her sandwich as well as she smacked her lips. "Well, like I said, this chocolate cookbook will get put to use – especially since I've been craving chocolate a lot lately."

"Really?" Daisy asked, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Time of the month?"

Amanda cheeks pinked with a girlish blush. "Actually…quite the opposite."

Swallowing her chicken salad hard, Daisy stared at her friend. "What do you mean? Are…..are you…..?

"Pregnant?" Amanda filled in. "Mmm, hmm."

Daisy quickly uncrossed her legs in – jolting Tank from where he rested below them. "But…how? I mean," she rolled her eyes, "I know _how_, it's just…..I thought you couldn't…"

"I can't. Not the biblical way at least. We did in-vitro. I'm twelve weeks. Wanted to get through my first trimester before we told anyone."

Daisy forgot about her engaged status, forgot about the horrid Christmas dinner with her future in-laws, forgot about Evan's pile of debt he's secretly keeping from her, forgot about the dog slobbering all over her Steve Madden boots – and even forgot about that biker she shamelessly threw herself at three months ago. All that mattered right now was her one and only friend's happiness an impending motherhood. "Oh my God, Amanda," she exclaimed, popping up from her chair causing a newly positioned Tank to adjust himself yet again. She hugged her friend as tears of joy formed in her eyes. "I'm so happy for you!" Pulling away she wiped her eyes then sat back down. "So…when are you due?"

"July third."

"Do you know what you're having?"

"Not yet, but we're gonna find out. We're keeping it to ourselves though."

Again, Daisy teared up. What irony, she thought. Deep down, that hard-faced, stone-cold husband of Amanda's was a man who loved his wife so much he went to great lengths to give her a child she never thought she could have. Maybe she wasn't the only one hiding behind some grand illusion. Maybe these outlaw bikers with tough outer shells had some humanity in them after all. Maybe. …..maybe even Tig..….no! She wasn't gonna go there. Not now. She had made her choice, even though her recent discovery caused her to suddenly second guess herself.

"Not sure when you're going to set your date, but I hope it's after this kid is out," Amanda said. "But, if it's before, I'll still be there – even if I look like a baby whale."

A wedding date. After three months, nothing was still decided upon. Neither she nor Evan were pressing the issue – a quiet sign that maybe something wasn't quite right after all. Who was she kidding – the sign was there two days after her engagement when she allowed Tig Trager to throw her on her couch and bang her like the whore. Why? Why was she now wishing she took his advice and rethought her engagement after that little interlude? Instead, she decided not to give him the upper hand by thinking she'd actually take relationship advice from someone who probably wasn't capable of one. So she privately fought against him – convincing herself it was nothing but a grave mistake that would never happen again and that marrying a man like Evan would keep her on the path her parents had laid out for her. Bad boys, dangerous men – they're nothing but trouble meant to deter her from who she was supposed to be.

But…but what if she was really suppressing who she really was?

"Daisy?"

"Huh?" Her deep thought caused her to space. "Oh….yes….the date. We haven't set one yet."

"What are you waiting for?" Amanda asked.

"I…..I don't know." Daisy's tears of joy for her friend turned into ones of frustration and confusion for herself. "I don't know."

"Hey," Amanda said, taking her hand. "Daisy, what's wrong?"

"I'm not sure," she sniffed. "I…..I think…..maybe we….."

"Moved too fast?"

"I think I just need to know more about Evan," Daisy said. "I need more time. I think….he may be hiding stuff from me."

"Like what?"

Daisy didn't want to divulge what she overheard until she could find a way to confirm it. "I….I don't want to say. Not just yet. I just wish there was a way I could, you know, dig into him on my own. I feel horrible wanting to do this, like I don't trust him or something…."

"….but something's making you uneasy."

Daisy nodded. "I just don't know how to find out without asking him."

"Daisy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

There wasn't any question. "Absolutely."

"Can you get Evan's social, driver's license and date of birth?"

The social security number she could get from Evan's employment forms at the office. She could sneak his license out of his wallet one morning after he stayed over and already knew his birthday. "Yes. I can get all of those. What for?"

"You want to dig into Evan, you'll need a good shovel. Now…I believe I owe you a big, messy 'Smore."

**~A~**

Jax glanced at the men around the table. "Derrell called. Said he may have to cut down on the number of legit cars he's been supplyin' for our monthly auction."

"By how much?"

Tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette, Jax looked down the end at Clay who asked that. "All of 'em."

"What?" Tig sat forward in his seat between Chibs and Hap.

"Gonna be temporary," Hap told him.

"Yeah, just…..listen up," Bobby said before nodding the 'go-ahead' to Jax.

"Someone's been paddin' their usual….suppliers with car parts –_ luxury_ ones – so they're stuck with a supply without the demand."

"Luxury cars?" Juice repeated. "You suggestin'…."

"Whoever's commitin' these car thefts goin' on the last few months seems to be in the 'chop shop' business also. They're runnin' parts from here down to Fresno and working their way west towards Oakland – all areas Steel Horse supply to from L.A. Lately these places have been stocked with a lot of luxury parts – ones The Horse count on to stockpile their cash - quick."

"Which is why they don't need to sell their legit cars – givin' 'em to us instead to unload for a passive percentage,"Opie said.

"Which they _now_ need due to the lack of parts demand," Jax explained. "Thus, taking that nice, profit _we _get out of _our_ pockets."

"These suppliers give a description to Steel Horse?" Juice asked.

"Nah," Jax replied. "These guys who buy hot parts don't name names. The Horse don't have an inked deal with 'em – kinda 'first come, first serve'. No one else was in play - until now."

"And now The Horse wants 'em outta the picture," Clay added. "I'm guessin' this is the intervenin' they want us to do?"

Jax leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Right now, we get a forty percent cut of The Horse's stock we sell at auction. They just offered to sweeten it."

"In exchange for…?" Phil asked

Juice nodded with realization. "They want us to find out who's behind these thefts."

"Exactly," Jax answered. "We get 'em solid intel – _and_ deliver who's behind it - they'll give us back their stock along with a seventy five percent cut for a year."

"Nice piece of bank," Happy added.

"So where do we start?" Tig asked. "Cops haven't been able to track this crew down so how are we?"

"Juice, start by pullin' up everything you can find on the thefts," Jax told him. "Newspaper articles, witness statements, police reports – anything. That'll scratch the surface, but," Jax sighed, "we need to go deeper."

"Luckily, we got friends in both high and low places," Bobby mused, looking down at Clay. "Talk to Phillips – see if he can set up a meet with us and Pope."

That earned a collected _'what?'_ around the table.

"_Pope?"_ Clay asked. "Are you nuts?"

"If this crew is infiltratin' near Oakland, he might hear some murmurin'."

"And what makes you think Pope's gonna wanna help us after I….." Tig couldn't even finish it.

"If The Horse is gonna guarantee us seventy five percent upon delivery, then we've got some extra cash to play with," Jax said. "Figure we offer Pope a nice 'finder's fee'. Cash you don't have to work for can make a man forget past sins. Call it an extension of an olive branch we owe 'im. Think it'll be worth our while to be in this guy's good graces after what went down."

"Yeah," Tig quietly said, staring at the table.

Jax looked down at Clay. "Talk to Phillips. See if his little visit with Pope reconnected a line we can use."

"Since when did I become his BFF?" Clay asked.

"Cuz you two…understand each other?" Jax replied.

"Big gamble, prez," Clay said.

"With a big payoff though," Jax countered before looking around. "Anything else?" A collective shake of heads caused him to pick up the gavel . "A'ight," he said, slamming it down. "Let's get this done."


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm two full chapters ahead, so I've been able to update more than once a week. This story is really coming together and I'm really enjoying writing these two so much I may stretch it out to perhaps 10 chapters. Little bit of everything here - Evan, Maniac, Hap & Amanda, club business and of course Tig and my favorite stiff-ass!**

**Enjoy and please review! Tig is such an uncharted territory for me and hope my version of his portrayal is believable enough**

**~/~**

**Chapter Three**

**Following Tuesday**

**January 1st, 2013**

Even though she kept her champagne intake to a minimum the night before, Daisy woke up with a headache. Her fiancé snoring like a freight train next to her didn't help as he had to play the schmoozy big shot at Elliott Oswald's Sierra Vista Country Club's New Year's Eve party in Sonora the night before. An elegant affair done up in black and white splashed with silver lit up the main dining room filled wall to wall with contractors, investors, bankers, equestrian connoisseurs and real estate moguls.

Men in open-collared suits and women dressed as if there was a red carpet beneath their feet, the event was a night to mix networking business opportunities while ringing in the beginning of what hoped to be a prosperous new year.

And Daisy was able to blend in with the best of them in a black, Escada dress she dropped five hundred dollars on – and that was on sale! The top was Audrey Hepburn 'Breakfast At Tiffany's' while the skirt was a tulle and satin combo which fell just above her knee. Sheer black hose and three inch Enzo Angiolini pumps had made her already long legs sky high.

But even though she was able to stand toe to fashionable toe with the half-drunk, over-bleached, over-botoxed and in-desperate-need-of-Spanx wives whose only purpose was to be a walking display case of how much money their husbands had, Daisy never felt more out of place. These were the people her parents rubbed elbows with, the ones they called 'associates' rather than 'friends', the ones they needed to keep one step ahead of in status. She had remembered all too well her teenage days being dragged by her parents to one boring event after another at the Silver Brook Country Club in Greenwich, dressed in one of the many outfits her mother had purchased full price at Bloomindales. It was those years that rubbed off on Daisy as what to wear, how to act and who to associate with. And all it took was a two year stint at Berkley – away from home, away from the pretentious snobbery, away from high expectations – where she fell in with a young man her parents wouldn't have found fit to clean their pool filter.

And a half dozen embarrassing soft porn movies later, Daisy tried to find recompense for those two disastrous years by conforming back to the uppity, dress-up doll she had once been. And for the last eleven years, she'd done just fine, though still unable to show her face back home with so many of her father's cronies still around who had caught some of her movies on cable one night. Instead, she called California her home - living an outward façade her parents would approve of while yearning every once in a while for that inhibited part of herself she let go in college.

And she gave into that yearning – big time. Again, to a man that would make her mother take to her swooning couch. And just like in college with those horrid movies on her invisible resume, Daisy made a mistake – giving in to a reckless moment of lust while wearing a two-carat diamond given to her by another man. And just like in college, after realizing her mistake, she slipped back behind her illusion of pretense and designer clothes. But whereas the memory of Tony immediately faded, her one night stand with Tig stuck with her . She didn't know what she was afraid of more – Evan finding out or her never being able to forget. And she couldn't. That night brought out the side of her she'd been long suppressing and her friendship with an old lady of an outlaw biker had her seeing things below the surface.

Even though her past indiscretion ate at her, she had no choice but to deal with it. She made her choice – and it was Evan. However, she needed to use a little wisdom and do some vetting. Her ambitious, well-connected and well-dressed fiancé not only had some financial issues, but perhaps a few secrets as well – one being lying on his resume about completing college.

Thankful Evan was snoring off a Dom Perignone hangover that prevented a celebratory New Year's Eve round of fast and boring sex, Daisy slipped out of bed. She grabbed her mint-green robe and belted it before heading to the kitchen. When it was just alone, she knew exactly what to do with her mornings - put on the news, make her mandatory cinnamon tea, surf her laptop for anything interesting which happened overnight, updating her Day Planner with her schedule for the week, things to do, items to get and appointments to make. She'd do laundry and iron then plan her outfits for the week. Yes…the _week_.

But with someone else in the house, she felt off her routine. Granted Evan hadn't insisted on moving in together as he still had a small home in Merced nor did he insist she spend her nights there. They still kept separate lives with him spending either a Friday or Saturday night, or both, here with her. Since she'd known him, she never spent one night at his place. Not that she minded, for Daisy felt comfortable in her own home, but she wondered if other engaged couples at their age in this stage of their relationship still kept separate lives.

Daisy remembered Amanda telling her what little she could about her relationship with Hap and how, after their first time together, he became a fixture in her house. As she filled the tea kettle, she wondered how her friend's daily life went with a man like that – having dinner together, going to bed together, waking up together, what they talk about, if he's as gentle with her as he is rough. She was always careful not to question Amanda too much as she remembered the law she laid down regarding her affiliation with the club. But what Daisy gleaned from as much 'girl talk' as Amanda allowed, she could tell that she and that creepy looking husband of hers had a relationship built on trust, love and understanding - complete with a home, dog and now a baby on the way.

Up until three months ago, Daisy had done well without a relationship, thinking her borderline OCD tendencies and adherence to routine, structure and organization would drive a man crazy. That was – until she met a man who shared pretty much the same qualities. But what seemed like a match made in heaven was suddenly turning into an annoyance. She was now filled with second thoughts and questions as to whether she could weather a lifetime of a groove she and Evan still hadn't developed.

Pulling a one of the muffins she picked up fresh from the bakery yesterday out of the bag, Daisy sat down with her tea – the wedding journal Amanda gave her for Christmas resting untouched on the table. She should go grab her precious fountain pen and begin filling every page with ideas, memories and plans. Instead, she felt like she was on hold.

"You're up already?" A sleepy, groggy Evan shuffled into the kitchen in boxers and a t-shirt, smoothing down his hundred dollar haircut in the process. He went to the teapot on the stove and picked it up. "This what you're having?"

She'd only been drinking cinnamon tea in the morning for…..years. "I always have tea."

"How about breaking out the espresso machine my parents bought you? I need more than tea."

More like the espresso machine his parents bought for _him_ for _her_ to make the intensely strong brew he fuels himself with. "Sure," she said, getting up to pull it out from under the cabinet. "Want something to eat?"

"Ugh, no," he groaned. "No food. Not yet. Maybe this afternoon we'll go out – have a nice, New Year's late lunch before I head home."

Here was an opening. "Maybe, instead, I can go to the market, get some ingredients then we can go back to your place and I'll cook."

He winced. "Nah. Rather go out."

"You can stay here tonight if you want," she said. "We can go in together in the morning."

"Can't, babe. Got no clothes with me. Plus, I've got to be on the Evergreen Woods jobsite for nine and it's closer to my house."

Fine. He had a good excuse. They'd go to lunch then part ways afterwards. Most engaged couples probably wouldn't want to be out of each other's sight, but for some reason, it didn't bother Daisy as much as it should. "Evan?"

"Yeah, babe?"

God, she hated being called that. "Think at lunch we can talk about setting a date?"

Evan turned around from where he was looking out her kitchen window and leaned against the counter. "Um, sure…..I guess," he said, shrugging. "I mean, what's the rush?"

What's the rush? Really, was he kidding? They'd been engaged for three months. By now, Daisy should've had the hall, church and caterer booked and up to her eyeballs in bridal magazines, place cards and color swatches. She found the espresso machine and placed it on the counter. "Evan, we've been engaged since September ninth. It's now the first of the year. Don't you think it's time to at least set a date? There's a lot to plan. I've got to order my gown, do a guest list, select music…"

"Whoa, whoa, babe, slow down….."

She spun around. "Please stop calling me that!" She didn't mean for it to come that harsh, but an irritability she never possessed was beginning to fester.

"Whoa….sorry," he replied with contriteness.

"Evan," she walked over to him, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound harsh. I just….don't like cutesy pet names." Except for_ doll_, she secretly thought to herself. Somehow, when Tig called her that, it didn't sound forced. "It's just…I want to move forward. We're past the holidays so I want to concentrate on the wedding."

"I know, I know," he said. "It's just…..I need to get a few things in order first."

"Like what?" she asked, hoping he was going to spill it.

He rubbed the back of his head. "Just, you know, personal and professional stuff."

"Evan, you can share things with me," she told him. "I'm going to be your wife."

"Just let me handle it, Daisy….okay? Look, if you want to set a date, we'll set a date." It was as if he was pacifying her rather than really wanting to. "We'll discuss it at lunch. See if you can get that thing going," he pointed to the espresso machine as he walked out of the kitchen, "I'm hitting the shower."

Left with the crazy contraption and a 'how to' manual, Daisy quickly figured it out. She got the water ready and pulled out the small bag of Vittorio Italian roast coffee which came with the machine. As soon as she heard the shower going, she quietly made her way down the hall and into the bedroom. Finding Evan's black dress pants from the night before folded perfectly at the pleats resting flat across the chair of her vanity table, Daisy felt around for his wallet. Pulling it out, she sifted through the insides with a twinge of guilt. American Express Black card as well as a Visa. Gym membership, Starbucks card, gas card….driver's license. She fished inside her work tote for her Day Planner, opened it up and uncapped her pen – slowly writing down the nine digit number.

"_Yeah, I'll set the date,"_ she said to herself. "_But I need some answers in the meantime."_

**~A~**

**Next Day**

**January 2nd, 2013**

_**DING**_

At least it wasn't in the _middle_ of sex like last time.

"Let me guess," Hap said, staring up at his wife who was still straddling him and catching her breath.

Slowly rolling off him, Amanda reached on her nightstand for her phone and read the text.

'_**Are you busy?'**_ "Daisy wants to know if I'm busy."

"Tell her ya just finished ridin' your ol' man."

"You really want me to tell her that?"

He shrugged. "Maybe next time she'll wait for a decent hour to text ya."

Amanda rolled her eyes and texted back**. **_**'No. What's up?'**_

Immediately, Daisy replied. **'**_**I got all the information. Can I come by the store today and give it to you?'**_

Amanda texted back. '**Sure. After one.'**

"What the hell you two goin' back and forth about?" Hap asked, annoyed.

Amanda put the phone down and slid her naked body over to his. "Got a favor to ask."

He eyed her warily. "Uh, huh."

"I need someone…looked into."

His dark eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"It's not for me," she sweetly said, tracing the inked snake on his body with her finger, "it's for Daisy." She glanced up innocently with a pleading grin.

He didn't even have to ask. "Little late for her to be diggin' into her man."

"Yeah, well, something came up on Christmas that….concerned her. She wouldn't tell me and I didn't ask. Gave her the same courtesy she gives me, but she looked serious about it so it must be big. I was gonna go right to Juice and ask him, but didn't feel right."

"You don't go to another member with shit like that," he told her. "You come to me first."

She replaced her tracing finger with her lips. "So, she's coming by the store today to give me Evan's info. If I give it to you will you have Juice look into him?"

Not that he minded his wife kissing his body, but he wasn't an idiot. "So was that a manipulation fuck you just gave me so I'd okay this?"

She looked at him appalled. "No! I happen to be thirteen weeks pregnant, my hormones are in overdrive and I've been consuming so much chocolate that I need to work it off before I get so fat the croweaters are gonna look good. Now, tell me you'll do this so I can get you ready for round two because I'm one horny bitch."

Well….since she put it _that_ way!

**~A~**

**Two Days Later**

**January 4th, 2013**

"Whadd'ya think?"

Maniac removed his helmet, lifted his sunglasses and stared at the tiny abode Tig pointed out. "For what?"

"Belongs to the guy who owns the package store. Been empty a few months. Thinkin' of rentin' it."

Maniac shrugged. "Not too big, not too small, not too far, not too close…."

"Yeah. Thinkin' the same thing."

Leave it to men to keep it simple.

"So, gonna finally set up house, bro?" Maniac asked.

"Just need to get outta the clubhouse. Ain't no twenty year old frat boy."

"Better watch it," Maniac mused. "After the house comes the wife and kids."

"_That_," Tig enunciated, "ain't gonna happen. Look , I don't wanna hear about it, a'ight? This is for me. _Only_ me. No couch with matching loveseat, no girly curtains, no designer towels, no fluffy comforter, no flowers, no candles…."

"Shit, bro. Don't bother with a lease. Just go live in a cave, will ya?"

"This is gonna be a _man's_ place. Period."

"Then go for it."

Swinging off his bike, Tig walked into the package store – removing his shades as the jingling bells caused a voice from in back to call out. "Be right out." Instead of footsteps, he heard tip-taps and looked down to see what appeared to be an old German Shepard exit from the back – the owner, who looked just as old in human years – following. "Can I help you?"

Tig eyed the dog who was curiously sniffing around him. "Yeah. Understand you own that vacant house next door."

"I do," the owner said. "You interested in buying it?"

"Rentin'. That an option?"

"Can make it one. Can't seem to get rid of it. Location ain't exactly ideal."

"It is for me. So….work up a number and I'll be by tomorrow to take a look."

"Sure thing mister….?"

"Call me Tig."

"George," the owner replied, staring down at the dog who laid between the two men. "That there's Sasha. She's nine. Both of us startin' to move a bit slow. Joints don't like the cool weather."

Tig bent down and affectionately rubbed the Shepard's ears and was rewarded with a closed-eye look of affection. Catching himself, he straightened up and put his shades back on. "Be by tomorrow around eleven."

"I'll be here," George said.

Once outside, Tig's cell went off as he walked back to his bike. "Yeah? Near the interstate entrance. When? A'ight, be there in about fifteen." Snapping his phone closed he pocketed it and mounted. "That was Jax. There was a break-in at Oswald's farm. Gotta meet 'im, Hap and Bobby there. Head on back to the clubhouse."

**~A~**

"They broke in and didn't take anything?" Happy asked. "Why?"

Surveying one of the stalls which was cleared out to house the additional cars set for auction, Oswald shook his head. "Not sure."

Bobby snooped around the three vehicles – a Malibu, a Caddy and an Alero – all newer models and all American made. "Nothin' looks damaged."

"You sure nothin's missin'?" Jax asked.

"Positive," Oswald replied. "I'm just glad I got my Alpha Romeo out of here in time."

"Wait….what?" Jax asked. "You had a Fiat in here?"

"My guilty pleasure," Oswald replied. "Had some restoration work done and the body shop dropped it off here three days ago. I stored it in here because it looked a bit overcast and didn't want it in the elements. I left city hall around seven last night and got a ride here so I could get it out and drive it home finally. Why?"

"What time did the police think the break in occurred?"

"Whoever did it was able to disarm the security system. Company called me around two a.m. to tell me the system had been down. Got up, drove down here and found the wires cleanly cut, the locks broken and the stall doors open, but…..nothing taken."

"Probably because what they wanted wasn't there," Hap spoke up.

"What, you mean…my Alpha?"

"Little coincidental that this happened after you parked it in here," Bobby said. "Correction – that _someone knew_ you parked in here."

"Just about everyone who works here saw the flatbed deliver the car," Oswald said. "Doesn't mean they were planning to take it."

"Maybe this body shop tipped off someone who might have a connection with these luxury car thefts?" Jax asked.

"You think these thefts made their way into Charming? That they're striking here?"

"They're movin' around, man," Jax said. "Gotta think everything right now – cause our repo business' got a big stake in bringin' this crew down."

**~A~**

Covering the front while everyone was in the stall, Tig put the finishing touches on a cigarette before crushing the butt into the gravel. The tranquility of the cool, early January day, clear sky and the smell of manure, horse and leather had some sort of comforting effect. He leaned up against the split rail fence, watching a trainer take a horse through its routine as he lifted one booted foot upon the bottom rung – contemplating the small step of change he was about to make in his life. His days were no longer filled with highway chases, rooftop shootouts, clandestine executions or maneuvering guns from one place to another. Danger was traded in for smart - even though the mighty dollar was the end game.

Amid the quiet sounds of the farm, tires rolling up against gravel go this attention.

Which were attached to a pale, blue Jag.

Shit – he'd been good at avoiding the little stiff-ass, even though he didn't pass up an opportunity to come here. Yeah, she turned out to be a hot little piece – no different from any other bitch once you stripped off all those pretentious designer clothes. If anything, he loosened her up a bit – in more ways than one. But if anything, he looked forward to these visits if only to make her uncomfortable and squirm.

He watched Daisy exit her car – long and tall in a peach-colored dress, knee-length boots and cropped sweater jacket with fur trim. Her hair was gathered in the back - not long, loose and lush the way he remembered it spilling down her back when he was ramming her from behind. Just showed off more of her face. Hell, she wasn't bad looking. She was actually real pretty. Delicate. Still a bit too thin, but the legs and ass made up for it – he supposed. Not that he was assessing her for anything specific.

With a large book in her hand, she walked to the office, stopping short on the gravel upon seeing him. Even from afar he noticed her large eyes – hazel and wide. He couldn't tell if she was glad to see him or stunned and wanted to hide. He preferred a bit of both. "Where's the douche?" he snarked.

And upon command, her spine stiffened causing her to look taller than her five foot nine frame. "Don't speak of my fiancé that way."

He needed to break up the quiet while he waited and Daisy was ripe for ribbing. "So," he walked over to her. "Goin' through with it?"

She lifted her chin when he got close enough, her eyes glancing past him and not to look directly into his. "I am."

"When?" Why did he really care?

"Late summer – August…maybe."

"Maybe?" Tig snorted, looking at the book in her arms. "Aw….._Our Wedding Journey_. Gonna write down all the details of your borin' engagement."

"Enough, Tig," she uncharacteristically huffed. "I won't have you speak to me this way. What….what happened between us was…" she cut off and swallowed as if unable to find the right word.

"Was pretty hot if you asked me," he filled in for her.

"A _mistake_. It was a mistake," she corrected him before walking towards office.

He casually followed her. "A mistake you'd make again in a heartbeat, doll."

She stopped against the side of the building – out of sight from the workers and trainers. He saw her soften when he called her that and couldn't help gloat – especially after she insisted he not do that. Who was he to have a bitch tell him what to do? "I….I think you should go."

"Can't. Guys are with your boss. Had a break in last night."

Now she was interested. "We did? Was anything taken?"

"Nah – don't worry. Then again," he turned to eye her car, "I'd make sure your little Jag is locked up nice and tight."

She finally faced him. "I heard about these thefts. You…..you don't think they'd try to take my car?"

He shrugged. "Luxury car. Falls in with what they're takin'."

"But it's an older model."

"Don't matter. And just to show I ain't that much of a prick, tell your boyfriend to watch his precious little Lexus."

She didn't pick up on his snark and instead dropped her eyes to the ground. "Yes. I will. Thank you."

Damn, something about her when she got all polite. "Somethin' wrong?" Again, why did he care?

"No. Nothing. Thanks. I'll let Evan know next time I see him."

Now he was intrigued. "_Next time_? You two ain't playin' house?"

She turned those eyes back on him – glaring with a fire that made him gloat. "A little personal_,_ aren't we?"

That's it. He had enough talk. Backing her up to the building, his hand found the small of her back until it slid down to palm that tight ass through the soft material of her dress. "After what we did on your couch,we're _way_ past personal, doll-face."

Her breath sucked into her lungs. "Take your hands off me, Tig."

"Gimme a reason?"

She held up her left hand. "Because I'm engaged to another man. Don't touch what doesn't belong to you."

"Sweetheart, you already let me break that rule three months ago."

"And I said it was a mistake."

"Really?"

Again, she swallowed hard. "Tig, please," she softly pleaded. "Don't do this to me. I can't. We….can't. I'm with Evan."

"Sounds to me," he got close to her face, "that Evan don't seem to be _with_ you. Three months and he ain't moved in with ya. No date in stone. Sounds like he's doggin' it."

"What would _you_ know?" she spat at him.

"Face it, doll. You're just goin' through the motions – thinkin' it'll erase all your little mistakes."

She vehemently shook her head. "No. That's not true."

"Prove it."

"What?"

"I said prove it," he repeated, pressing her closer against the building. He enjoyed her reaction. No matter what the little stiff ass said, he knew deep down inside she didn't mean a word. If there was one thing he knew as a man it was what a bitch said and what she really meant were two different things. "You think nothin' can sway ya from your little golden boy, then prove it. You alone tonight?"

Her eyes widened with curiosity. "Why?"

"Answer the question."

"Yes."

"Good. Leave the door open. I don't like knockin'."

Her mouth parted. "You're going to come over?"

The cool air pinked her cheeks with anticipation. He upped it by putting his lips to her ear, the fur collar of her sweater teasing his face. "Gonna do more than just come over. See, when I'm done with ya, you'll be off balance for a week." He pulled away and smiled innocently at her astonished face. "How's that sound." A moment or two passed as she digested what he said – no doubt thinking of a polite comeback. "Need an answer,Daze. Ain't got all day."

And one more time Daisy swallowed hard. "I'll leave the back door unlocked."


	4. Chapter 4

**Happy Friday! Here's an extra chapter for the weekend. After this, the drama gets rolling, things are discovered, questions get answered, oh, and…..chocolate! Need some whimsy in this.**

**Even though I stated that no shades of Season 5 are portrayed in this story, a character from it (Damon Pope) is, but it is my AU version of him and his interaction with the Sons so nothing should be spoiled.**

**Hope you enjoy and please review. You've all been very kind with your feedback and glad this story seems to be realistically working. Thanks so much!**

**~/~**

**Chapter Four**

**Same Afternoon**

Nothing pleased Lieutenant Ezra Phillips more than an uneventful town.

No drama, no fiascos, no spur of the moment trips to ward off a gang war – things like that. Late afternoon found him in the wood-paneled office of Charming PD enjoying a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Through a partially cracked window, the sounds of a town beginning to wind down for the day flowed in. The humm of cars slowly driving by, soft footsteps against pavement, bits of conversation, the crisp scent of an early January breeze – this moment couldn't be any more perfect.

"_Lieutenant,"_ the voice came over the intercom_. "Someone here to see you."_

Phillips hit the button. "Name please?"

"_Clay Morrow."_

If there was one factor in this town that could toss a monkey wrench into his moment of solitude enjoyment it was the Sons. Though quiet and well-behaved as of the latest incident three months ago which had him embarking on a trip to Oakland to face his past, the sound of straight pipes which pierced through this town's day-to-day noise was a constant reminder of their residency here. Still, compared to a spray of bullets, a noisy motorcycle or…..six was the lesser of the two evils. "Send him in," he replied, after a long pause.

Placing his coffee cup down, Phillips stood up from his leather chair and went to open the office door just in time for SAMCRO's matriarch to appear – hoisting a coffee cup in his own hand. "I like the hospitality here," Clay mused as he stepped inside.

Closing the door tight for privacy, Phillips took his chair and regarded the gray-haired, former MC president across from him. "I'm all about keeping the town folk content," he replied.

Clay glanced around the office, stopping to look out the window. "You must like that sound."

"What sound?"

"My point exactly," Clay quipped. "If I didn't know better, lieutenant, I'd say you look…..bored."

"In my line of work, boredom is a welcome inconvenience. I, uh….appreciate the Sons contributing to that."

Clay shrugged. "Just doin' our best to be model citizens. Been busy. Got multiple business ventures goin' – you know, the kind you actually report on your tax return."

Phillips let out a soft snort. "As opposed to…?"

"No comment."

The banter between him and this grizzled outlaw actually grew on Phillips. They were two men who shared a common thread, but whereas one wrapped that thread up two decades ago on the streets of South Detroit, the other was still wearing that thread out thin to the bitter end. "I'm guessing your step-son is responsible for getting the club on this new path."

Taking a sip of coffee, Clay looked unaffected. "Eh. Out with the old, in with the new."

"And judging from that cut you're still wearing, you're not all the way out."

Shifting the coffee cup to his left hand, Clay opened and closed his right one. "Doc prescribed a stronger shot. Dulls the pain enough to accelerate when I need to."

Leaning back in his chair, Phillips folded his hands across his utility belt. "Why, Mister Morrow?"

"Why….what?"

"Prolong the agony. You've passed the torch. You've hung in there. Why not give those hands of yours a rest and go out gracefully?"

"Ain't no such thing, lieutenant. All I get to look forward to once I step away is a new grand-baby."

Phillips looked surprise. "Miss Amanda?"

"Unless there's another secret daughter I don't know about."

"Congratulations," Phillips said. "A man with Mister Lowman's…..background doesn't settle down lightly."

"Takin' a page outta the book Jax's been layin' out," Clay replied.

"Any chance Mister Trager's got that same book in his library?"

"Lieutenant," Clay began, "every man moves to the beat of his own drum. Tig'll find that rhythm when he's ready. As for me, I'm still around because all I have left to milk is my dignity."

Rising from his chair, Phillips went over to the window to stare outside. "I've been a cop for almost twenty years, Mister Morrow. But no amount of time will ever erase those four I spent runnin' the streets. As much as you want to, as much as you want to forget the gunfire, the screams, the blood…..you can't. But at the same time, you _don't_ want to forget," he turned to face Clay, "because it's a reminder of what I survived. The fact I _did _survive. I'm sure you held that president's patch you gave to Teller as long as I've held a badge – meaning, you have a lot more…..memories you'd want to forget. But being able to walk away whole, knowing you survived them – can't get more dignified than that, sir."

A big, grin split Clay's face putting a sparkle in his pale blue eyes and an extra crease in his forehead. "Wow. Puttin' it that way, I'm ready for a round of golf and an umbrella drink."

Waving it off, Phillips took his chair again. "Just something to chew on. Now, I'm taking you aren't here for free coffee and reminiscing."

"Would you believe to wish you a belated Happy New Year?"

"Try again."

Leaning forward, Clay put the coffee cup down and rested his forearms on the desk. "Actually, that's partially true. You came here last March – almost a year now. Was a bit of a rough beginnin' and I know you were…..compromised to come through for the club not once, but twice. Now that all that mess is behind us, I want you to know the club's intention is to go forward without any trouble."

Phillips nodded. "And I'm in complete agreement with those intentions. Now…..the _real _reason why you're here." He wasn't _that _stupid to think that was it.

Clay looked impressed and caught off guard. "Guess I'm either losin' my touch or you've been studyin' my manual. Actually, I have a small favor to ask. Part of our new regime is to not have any lingerin' bad blood with anyone. There's some amends we want to make – maybe turn an enemy into an ally."

"Who may this be?" Phillips asked.

"Damon Pope."

Phillips kept his composure. "May I ask why?"

"Specifics? No," Clay told him. "Basics? I think you know why. We're still…..uneasy about how it all went down."

"Don't be," Phillips quickly told him. "That uneasiness is a small price to pay for what I deflected on your behalf."

"And you have the club's utmost gratitude for that."

"Exactly what is your intention with Pope?"

Clay acted as non-descript as possible. "Just….meet with 'im. Have a profitable business proposal we'd like to offer as an olive branch."

Phillips leaned in. "You know what that man tried to do to your club, Mister Morrow. What he can _still _do if you don't respect the rules he laid down. You push it and that olive branch will snap in half and that quiet," he pointed out the window, "will disappear."

"Lieutenant," Clay wisely pleaded. "All we're askin' for is a meet. That's it. We make an offer. He accepts, beautiful. If not, we part ways and keep the boundaries."

He thought he had the upper hand, but Phillips was beginning to feel pulled in by the spinning effect of Clay Morrow's bullshit. "You can't go into Oakland – at least not with cuts and bikes. And I don't think you'll venture anywhere far without those."

"Which is why we're goin' to suggest a neutral place."

"And how do you plan to get word to Pope of this….business meeting?" Clay just smiled and extended his hand out, causing Phillips to sigh. "_Me?"_

"Pretty please," Clay joked.

"Mister Morrow, my meeting with Pope wasn't to have a gang-family reunion."

"You're the only pipeline we have."

"We didn't exactly exchange phone numbers and Twitter handles before I left."

"But you know where he operates out of. Look, we're not lookin' to instigate anything. Just a meet, a talk and an offer. That's it."

There was no way to get out of this. Retired of his presidents patch or not, Clay Morrow still found a way to get what he wanted. "This is what I'll do," Phillips said. "I will make _one _phone call and leave _one _message. That's it. He or his people don't return the call, then it ends there. No second attempt. That's _my _law I'm laying down. Am I clear?"

"Like fine crystal," Clay replied triumphantly.

**~A~**

**Later That Night**

Was she out of her damned mind?

"_What the hell was I thinking?"_ Daisy asked herself, even as she sat on the edge of her bed around nine pm. A short, sleeping gown was under her belted, mint-green robe – her body warm from the sandal-wood scented bath she took to soothe her nerves. As she rocked back and forth, her spine stiffer than usual, she told herself over and over that her choice of attire and fragrant skin had nothing to do with the invitation she flung at Tig Trager. The back door which led to her kitchen was unlocked as promised as she sat on the bed like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

"What am I doing?" she said out loud this time, getting up to pace. She couldn't back out. Didn't have his number to call and tell him that she wasn't thinking clearly earlier – that she was too sucked in by nothing but a promise to turn her body into a pile of buzzing nerves. Three months. Three entire months of convincing herself that a fast and furious fifteen minutes she had with that man was a grave mistake just flew out the window.

It brought her back to college and under the spell of Tony - the resident bad-boy of the co-ed dorms. She was like a guppie strained out of the upper-crust fishbowl of her parent's life and plopped into a sea of sharks. But Tony didn't eat her alive – instead he gave her the green light to loosen the top button and let her hair down. For the first time, Daisy was uninhibited and free from the Greenwich, Connecticut microscope – succumbing to behavior that would scandalize her parents back home.

And once caught, that behavior got her shamed and cut off financially, forcing her to fend for an associate's degree by lowering herself even further in cable soft-porn. Disgraced, she remained on the other side of the country – reverting back to the stiff, snooty, perfectly dressed and accessorized female she was raised to be. It was a small price to pay for suppressing the woman she was inside.

And, yet another poor choice led her to drastic means to experience what she was missing out on – this time allowing a biker with a criminal record, lusty words and unsettling blue eyes to have the honors. She didn't even like Tig – let alone find him the least bit attractive. But there was something about that sarcastic, disrespectful, obnoxious man that pulled her like a magnet.

He wasn't picture perfect, or well-groomed, manicured and attired – instead, what helplessly drew her to Tig went below the surface. The arrogant confidence of a raw male, a pure, animal sexuality which was honed through instinct and experience. Whereas her exterior was a shield to hide behind, Tig's outside was a mirror reflection of what he was inside. There'd be no mistaking where he stood or came from. He had no pretense, no falsity, no grand illusion to hide who he truly was. Perhaps that's what drew Daisy – the fact she'd be getting exactly what was in front of her, whereas her somewhat perfect fiancé may be keeping something at bay.

Even as she twisted the two carat solitaire diamond on her finger, she knew it was too late. She hadn't seen Evan all day and some business networking event would keep him away from her this evening. They'd been happening quite frequently – these little last minute opportunities for Evan to work the construction industry and sell Elliott Oswald as a product. That's what he was brought in for and, over time, Oswald had slowly let the reigns loose and entrusted Evan with running three construction projects simultaneously.

Yes, Evan was the one for her, she thought as she calmly sat back down. He gave her a tentative go-ahead to start planning the wedding for sometime late summer. She'd spent the last few days flipping through the wedding journal Amanda gave her for Christmas, but hadn't written anything in it yet – rather waiting until this night was over. Once she proved to herself that the first time _was_ a mistake, tomorrow she could cement it by opening a fresh page and start her and Evan's journey. Tonight was nothing more than to prove to that felon who thought he could see right through her wrong.

And hopefully prove herself wrong as well.

In the quiet of her house, Daisy suddenly heard hinges squeak, followed by the soft closing sound of the back door. Was it _him_? Was he here? She didn't hear a motorcycle pull up or even in the distance. As much as she wanted to bolt up, she was frozen – her hands wringing each other as her heart slammed in her chest. Why was she reacting this way? This wasn't her fiancé – the man she was _supposed_ to anticipate and get butterflies over. This was crazy. She should just get up, go out there and tell him to leave – that's what the good girl in her should do, the one Tig told her to remain.

"Daisy?"

That was _not_ Tig's voice.

"_Evan?"_

She bounded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to see Evan drop his keys on the table and undo his sport-coat. "What…..what are you doing here? I…..I thought you had some business function tonight?"

Evan was a little over-exuberant. "Yeah, I….did. Cut out early. Thought I'd surprise you and come by." He punctuated that by holding up an overnight bag, indicating where he planned to sleep tonight. This was what Daisy wanted – for them to co-habitate more. That was what engaged couples were supposed to do after all, right?

"You…..you should've called first," she said, trying her best to hide her nervousness.

"Wouldn't have been a surprise then," Evan replied, eyeing her up and down. "Why're you dressed like that?"

She knew it! She knew this would end up bad. Now she was forced to lie. "I was just getting ready for bed." Well, it really wasn't a lie.

"It's only nine."

"I was tired. Crazy day at the farm. Did you know there was a break-in there last night?"

"Uh…..yeah, I did," he casually replied. "Maybe Elliott won't let that stupid motorcycle club store their cars on his property."

For some reason, Daisy's defensiveness went up. "It had nothing to do with _their_ cars. Mister Oswald thinks someone wanted to take his Alpha Romeo – unaware he had taken it out of there before the break-in."

Evan flashed his eyes at her. "You don't know that for sure."

"Why else would someone break in and not take anything? He assumed because the car they wanted to take wasn't there after all."

"Doesn't matter. Nothing was taken, right?"

"These car thefts are serious, Evan. We both have the type….."

"Which won't be taken, babe," he said, giving her a reassuring kiss. "I promise."

Daisy was in no position to chastise him for calling her _babe._ She was about to let another man walk into her house and twist her into an orgasmic pretzel. She'd toss Evan a bone this time.

"Mmm," he said, his nose in her neck. "You smell good."

Her spine stiffened knowing that poor, ignorant Evan had no idea whom she readied herself for tonight. "Took a sandal-wood bath. Nice and soothing after a long day."

Slowly, Evan began to untie her robe and slide it off her shoulders – an indication she was going to have sex tonight, but with a different man who walked through her door. "C'mon," he said, taking her hand, and walking her into the bedroom. Not the kitchen floor, not the counter, not over the couch like someone else would most likely do. Once in there, Daisy sat on the bed and watched as Evan meticulously undress – taking his time to undo each button, fold and layout. She guessed only couples in Lifetime movies ripped each other's clothes off in a frenzy to claw at each other. Her mind slipped back three months ago, hearing the tearing off of a belt, unzipped jeans and hands roughly pulling her own clothes off. It was a desperate wanting for two bodies to be joined – a sensation she was hoping for tonight. She already experienced it with the wrong man and doubted she would with the right one standing in front of her.

In nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein boxers, Evan kneeled on the bed, laying Daisy on her back in the process. He kissed her on the lips sweetly as his hands searched her silky, scented skin. Over her shoulders, down her arms, up to her waist until the rested on her breast. No forceful grab, no pinching, no making her writhe and scream – just gentle, orchestrated ministrations that caused her fists to clench with frustration.

And as he slowly lifted her night gown and lowered his boxers, a sound pierced through the mild-loving haze she was in. It started out slow, then grew louder before it slowed down near her house – hoping Evan's parked Lexus at the base of her driveway would be an indication. In an effort to keep his attention, Daisy threw her arms around Evan's neck as her legs came up to take him in – a deep groan of satisfaction making him completely oblivious to the idling bike outside.

And after about a minute, it took off – just as Evan did inside her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yes, I'm updating quickly. I want to be done before I get busy with end of year, plus this story is really flying and coming together nicely. Plot advancement, but not a lot of high drama. next chapter, I promise.**

**Enjoy & review!**

**~/~**

**Chapter Five**

**Following Week**

**Friday, January 11th**

Jax was both surprised and anxious when the phone call came through. Damon Pope's people made the MC sweat it out a week before they got an answer to them.

In an effort to appear as approachable as possible, he kept his entourage to the bare minimum. His VP and Sergeant were mandatory. As for muscle and lookout, Maniac would've been the appropriate choice, but Tig requested being present. Due to what had transpired with Pope's daughter, Jax thought the last person present at this meeting should be Tig, but then looked at it as a way for him to come to terms with the change in the club. He wanted to be there, wanted to support the process and - most of all - stand by his new president.

And at one thirty in the afternoon at an abandoned lumber mill along the docks off Interstate 580, the four members of SAMCRO were still waiting twenty five minutes past the scheduled meet time. The club may have initially reached out to meet, but it was clear who was running the show.

"Fashionably late?" Bobby quipped.

Happy shook his head. "Pope's swingin' his dick - lettin' us know how far it reaches."

"He can wrap it around my head for all I care," Jax added, regarding his two officers. "We need this to go smoothly." He then glanced over to Tig. "Understood?"

Tig nodded. "Yeah. Got it."

Right now, Tig needed something to go right. Something that would help him move past this internal shit he'd been fighting. His past behavior had cost the club and the realization that this new direction was for real was a cold hard slap in the face. Everyone else was falling in line. Legit business was shaping up, Phillips turned off the spotlight on them, money was slow, but steady and acting as a consult to Sutter Creek's gun running kept them out of the Fed's radar. Gemma was right – Christmas would suck behind bars. What Tig needed was a hard kick in the nuts to wake him the fuck up. The vote to change seats began it.

And the little stiff-ass chickening out just solidified it.

He didn't know what he was trying to prove with her, but when she agreed to leave her house open for him to waltz in and nail her from here to Sunday was only to prove she was just like any other bitch when offered a cock bigger than the one she was already getting. But pulling up in front of her house that night, the unexpected sight of a silver Lexus in her driveway was about as big of a '_I-changed-my mind'_ sign as she could've sent. The old him – the reckless, I-don't-give-a-rat's ass probably would've just went inside, caused a scene, punched out the guy then coolly take off - leaving them to deal with the mess.

But Tig was trying to emulate the change occurring around him – allowing it to better him, if that were possible. Negotiating a decent rent on that small house by Interstate Five was a start. The old man in the package store kept the place clean with a couch, kitchen table, microwave, refrigerator, stove and queen-sized bed frame for furnishings and simple blinds on the windows. All Tig needed was a television, mattress, pillow, blanket and a couple of six packs for the fridge and he was in business.

It was time to go forward at his own pace. As for Daisy McKay, he was done with her. Toying with her, ribbing her, caring whether or not she latched herself to a douche fiancé with girly hands – he was over it. He wasted too much time on some uppity chick who was ignorant as shit. At least he laid her out good once – let her spend the rest of her life with some guy who can't get the job done.

"Here we go."

Jax's voice snapped his head in the direction of a gleaming, black Bentley rolling up along the dock before coming to a halt several feet away. Out of the passenger side came a big, tall black dude attired in a two piece suit the color of brick, white shirt and gold jewelry which reflected in the sparkling sunshine of a chilly, January afternoon. At first Tig thought it was Pope until the driver exited to open the rear door. A black shoe polished to a high shine stepped out of the car, attached to another black gentleman – about five foot ten with a slender build covered in an overcoat. A regal air surrounded him as he straightened up and tightened the belt of his coat – never once looking over. But when he finally did, the look on his face was that of a man of pure power and respect. This most definitely was Damon Pope.

Jax stepped forward to meet him, Bobby and Happy flanking close behind while Tig remained to the side. After Pope decided he had let them wait long enough, he motioned to both his men to remain behind as he walked towards Jax. Following Pope's lead out of respect, Jax motioned for Bobby and Hap to remain several feet behind – allowing to the president of an MC and the man who practically ran Oakland with a wave of his hand to speak privately.

"Jackson Teller," Pope said matter of factly.

Nodding, Jax shoved hands in his pockets. "Thanks for agreein' to meet us."

"Word of advice, Mister Teller. Don't make a habit of using your lieutenant as a messenger boy. My association with Ezra Phillips was a different lifetime ago. The only reason I agreed to this was out of sheer curiosity. A man who requests a meeting with me after I practically banned him and his club from stepping foot in my town either has to be a complete idiot, or a rare breed. I guess I'm here to see which category you fall into."

Keeping a humble tone, Jax regarded the Oakland street lord. "First off, I want to personally tell you how absolutely sorry I am about what happened to your daughter."

Scanning the three men behind Jax, Pope inhaled deeply then glanced down to study his fingernails. "Yes. _Sorry_ is all you can be. I just hope," again he looked at the other three men, "whoever was truly responsible will fully comprehend the meaning of that word."

"I can't imagine losin' a kid."

"You have children, Mister Teller?"

"Two boys."

"I hope you don't have to imagine it either. Now I've kept my end of the bargain I made with your lieutenant."

"My club appreciates that."

"I didn't do it for your _club_, Mister Teller," Pope retorted sharply. "I did it for an old friend whom I owed a debt to – for _his _town. Don't misunderstand my intentions."

"Duly noted," Jax humbly replied. "And we've kept our end."

"Don't expect _me_ to appreciate that ," Pope sharply told him. "It _wasn't_ a choice. Now…tell me why I'm here."

Standing tall, head high, Jax looked directly into Pope's eyes. "Again, we don't like what went down and would like to make you a business offer. Call it our way of tryin' to make some amends."

Pope chuckled softly. "You're bordering on that idiocy. Money can't bring back the dead."

"I know that. But it's all we have to offer."

"Not true."

"Excuse me?"

"You could at least give me a name of the man who caused my Veronica's death. At least when I think of her, I'll have a name to curse."

Behind Jax, Tig stood straight, his face stone-cold, his insides twisted even as his mind contemplated doing something he shouldn't.

"Is that what you really want?" Jax asked him.

Thinking a bit, Pope grinned. "What's this offer, Mister Teller. I have a three o'clock I need to be back for."

Direct was the best course of action. "Steel Horse MC. You know them?" The question was only protocol. Prior to the meeting, Juice took a stab at playing 'six degrees of Damon Pope' and found a connection between him and the black LA-based MC.

"Is that a trick question?" Pope asked.

"I don't understand."

"I believe you know I already do," Pope replied. "What about them?"

"We helped them out little less than a year ago," Jax explained. "Formed a business arrangement. Legit one. Been pretty profitable."

"Yes. I understand auctioning cars is," Pope quipped, pausing at the surprised look on Jax's face. "There's a lot I _don't_ know about Steel Horse."

Jax gambled by taking an aggressive stance. "Because they run narcotics for you?" If Pope was bothered in the least by that admission, he didn't show it. "Not to worry – that bit of information don't leave this dock."

Pope stared down the young MC president with a dangerous glare. "Oh, I _know_ it won't. Now….your point?"

"Horse supplies us with their legit cars to auction – in exchange for a nice percentage. Cars they _can't _unload on the up-and-up - that's where they make their fast money."

"Chop shop…parts," Pope stated. "Yes, I know. I didn't come here to get their resume."

Jax kept his cool. "Horse had to pull the inventory they supply us because it seems some other crew is in play. Floodin' the black market with luxury parts, pushin' the Horse out and takin' bread off their table. Now they need to sell the cars they normally give us to make up for that."

Understanding passed over Damon Pope's face as he folded arms covered in Italian wool. "Exactly where do I play into all this?"

"The Horse came to us for help. Wants us to find out who this mysterious crew is and deliver. Seems they've been gettin' around – even as far west as O-Town. In a nutshell," Jax began, "you _are _Oakland. We figure, if anyone's gonna hear anything it's you."

Pope gripped his chin between his fingers in thought. "You want me to dig up intel."

Jax shook his head. "We just wanna know if you hear anything. If it's solid and it takes these guys outta play, we're prepared to pay you a nice finder's fee. Fifteen percent of all the cars we sell for three months after the Horse resumes stock."

It didn't take long for Pope to answer. "Twenty five."

Jax grinned. "Twenty."

"This isn't negotiable, Mister Teller. I'm _telling_ you. Twenty five."

Inhaling deeply, Jax turned to Bobby and Happy who nodded before turning back to Pope. "Twenty five it is."

"Good. Because…I think I _may _have heard something."

Again, Jax kept his cool. This man didn't become who he was by not being ten steps ahead. It was clear Pope had some intel – after he commissioned himself an additional ten percent. "Anything you can share?"

Sliding the sleeve of his coat up, Pope glanced at his Tag Hauer watch. "Not at this time. But I have your burner number, Mister Teller. I'll call you when I'm good and ready."

Jax was stuck between a rock and a hard place – not having any choice but to let Pope pull the strings. "I'll await your call."

"Yes, you do that. And…..take care of those two little boys of yours. May you never have to pick out their caskets before they pick out yours."

Jax shook his head with guilt. "Mister Pope, again, I'm….."

"No more," Pope said, holding his hand up. "But like I said, the only solace I can get right now is knowing who did it."

Both men held each other's stare until footsteps walking forward broke the momentary silence. Turning around, Jax glared at Tig who was now by his side. "No," was all Jax could seethe out.

"Let me," was all Tig said.

"Tig!"

"You," Pope said quietly. "It was you."

Fists clenched over how this civil meeting might end, Jax faced Tig, only to be backed up when Pope waved him away with his hand. "Mister Pope," Jax said calmly. "Don't."

But the street king didn't listen, approaching Tig with an inquisitive stare as his right hand reached inside the breast pocket of his coat. A series of clicks surrounded them, echoing throughout the dock as guns were drawn on both sides, anticipating Pope was pulling out a weapon of his own. Instead, a wallet was produced as he glanced around. "Put those guns away!" he stated with an authority that caused his two men to comply. Following suit, Jax lowered his, motioning for Bobby and Happy to do the same. He then opened the wallet, never taking his eyes off Tig. "Name."

"Tig."

"Tig….what?"

"Trager."

"Well, Tig Trager. Tell, me – when you look in the mirror, what do you see?"

Tig had no trouble answering that. "Honestly? Nothin'."

"Hmm," Pope hummed, finding what he wanted. "Perhaps I can fix that." He held up what was a picture of a beautiful, young black woman. "That's who I put in the ground three months ago. From now on, Tig Trager, when you look in the mirror, I want you to see the life you cut short."

For two years, Tig never even had Donna haunt his dreams – a hardness that was so ingrained in him over time allowed him to block the images of that night gone horribly wrong. But something was different about him – something this 'change' was beginning to take shape, causing him to develop a conscious he never had to work hard to suppress. All he could do was glance at the picture and nod. Words of apology wouldn't mean shit right now, not that he had a right to speak in the first place.

Backing away, Pope closed his wallet and tucked it away, regaining his business-like composure before spinning to walk back to the waiting Bentley. "I'll be in touch."

**~A~**

**Two Days Later**

It wasn't a cozy, decorated house but it wasn't the club.

After Rat and one of the hangarounds moved his stuff in, new mattress and box spring delivered, electric and cable hooked up and several sweetbutts scrubbed the place top to bottom, Tig finally had a place to call home.

It was coming up on ten and he was scheduled in the garage for noon. Perfect – another hour and a half shut eye before he rolled out of bed and into clothes still lying on the floor. He then changed his mind as not being as offensive as he used to be was part of his new regime.

Throwing the covers back, he walked half awake into the bathroom, pissed, scrubbed his mouth then took a quick shower. Drying himself off, he looked at himself in the mirror – his mind seeing that photo of Veronica Pope. Seeing her face every day was a small price to pay for what could've been his fate.

Jeans, t-shirt and socks on, he made his way into the tiny kitchen where Amanda's old coffee maker she gave him when she got herself a fancy Keurig sat on the formica counter. Eyeballing water and grounds, he listened to the thing sputter while he opened the fridge. Toby and Erin did some basic shopping for him – eggs, milk, bread, butter, mayo, mustard, cheese and small packages of assorted cold cuts. Pulling a loaf of bread out, he popped two pieces in a two-slice toaster Juice gave him when his extended family invested in a four slice one. As the coffee dripped, he saw how pathetic it was to have his home furnished by his brothers' hand-me-downs.

Opening the cupboard above, he reached past a stack of canned soups for the peanut butter and jelly as a scratching noise near the front door caught his attention. Slowly walking over, it got louder and louder. Grabbing his nine, he brought it up as he slowly opened the front door to find a large German Shepard on the other side.

Lowering his gun, he opened the outside screen. "What're you doin' here, ol' girl?"

As if it were an invitation, Sasha tip-tapped right inside. Sticking his head out, Tig looked down towards the package store. The old man's car was there and an empty leash was outside. He looked back in at the dog. "You get off your leash?"

Sasha just panted then circled a small throw rug before plopping her big body down.

"What the…?" He exited the house just as George came out of the package store to pick up the empty leash. "Hey! Dog's over here."

Shaking his head, George began to walk over. "Sorry about that," he loudly replied. "We used to live there. Still familiar to her."

Tig looked back at the dog who was perfectly content and curled up then scratched the back of his head. "It's a'ight," he told George, waving him off. "I'm leavin' in a hour. I'll walk her back before I go."

"You sure?" George asked. "She's not too much trouble?"

How much trouble could a nine year old dog fast asleep on the floor could be. "Nah. It's cool."

Closing the door, Tig slowly walked past the dog who really wasn't asleep. She just looked…comfortable. Even with a thorough cleaning, there must've been a lingering scent in the house she picked up to where she still thought it was home. Or….she was just starting to come down with doggie dementia.

"You okay, ol' girl?" Tig asked, bending down to lightly rub Sasha's head – her eyes closing with affection. He then straightened up to get his coffee and smear peanut butter and jelly on his toast. Under the counter, he grabbed a paper plate from the unopened package as well as a napking and went over to the couch. Clicking on the television, he surfed until he came upon repeats of Hardcore Pawn. As he watched a bunch of losers try to unload worthless shit, he plopped his cup and plate on a used coffee table and ate. It didn't take long before the curious dog made her way over.

It took two tries, but she got herself up on the couch as if she owned it and stretched her body, face first, towards Tig. "Well, you just made yourself at home, didn't ya?" He left the old dog alone as he finished eating, then leaned back against the back of the couch to finish his coffee. Little by little, Sasha inched her way forward until her face rested on Tig's lap. He remembered this – the unconditional love and affection of a dog. Sasha looked just like her – just a little gray forming around her muzzle.

And with an affection he often had trouble showing human beings, he laid his hand upon the dogs head and mindlessly stroked it – closing his eyes to find some semblance of contentment within his twisted life.

**~A~**

"I'm heading back to town," Elliott Oswald announced, sliding his coat on. "Have a council meeting at three."

Daisy stood up from her desk, nodding at her boss. "Will you be back?"

"No. Need you to lock up when you leave," he said, looking at his watch. "See if you can get a hold of Evan. My messages are going to voice mail. I know he's on the Evergreen Woods job site which has bad reception. I want to make sure he gets over to the Cedar Crest site first thing in the am."

"I'll try to get a hold of him," Daisy replied. "Would you like me to email your messages?"

Oswald shook his head. "No. It's fine. I'll be here early tomorrow, then leaving around eleven. My wife's late Christmas present is finally being delivered from Santa Rosa."

Daisy smiled with anticipation of romance. "Oh? You mean…you found it?"

"I not only found it, but got them to custom paint it. It'll be the only Persian Blue Cadillac convertible in Charming."

"She's going to be so excited." Daisy was trying to feed off that excitement as going forward with her wedding plans weren't exactly fitting the bill. Trying to deal with two sets of parents trying to out-snoot each other and a fiancé who was happily leaving everything up to her was taking the wind out of her wedding sales. But Daisy supposed it was better this way as she was more comfortable doing things herself. Evan gave her carte blanche to plan, select and register for whatever she wanted. It should be every bride's dream to have such free reign. Even though a part of her yearned for the two of them to do _something _together, she was happy to indulge her anal, organized self without any witnesses.

"Listen, finish up and head out. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Mister Oswald." Seeing her boss off, Daisy tried Evan on his cell, only for it to go to voice mail. She thought to send him a text or an email, but wondered if those would go in limbo as well until he was closer to a cell tower. Evergreen Woods was about forty five minutes away. Since she was packing it in for the day, she decided to indulge in the romance she was feeling and go surprise her fiancé on the job to deliver the message in person.

**~A~**

Daisy was clearly not dressed for a construction site. Chocolate brown suede skirt and matching t-strap pumps were clearly not the attire of choice to walk on unpaved ground littered with rocks, muddy potholes and assorted building material. Safely maneuvering herself around shards of broken glass and seven inch nails she came upon the construction trailer which doubled as an on-site office. No doubt Evan would be in there as, dressed as he normally did, he wouldn't be trudging the site in butter-soft Italian, tassled loafers.

The open site was no protection against afternoon gusts of wind as Daisy pulled her knee-length sweater duster tight about her – carefully climbing the makeshift, wooden steps to the trailer and knocking. Every stereotype that was ever imagined for a construction worker pulled open the door – flannel shirt, work pants sporting a waistband hidden below an overhung gut which had seen too many happy hour beers and chicken wings. Mud-caked work boots and a thermal jacket littered with what looked like sawdust completed the look as the man had just finished shoving a Cinnebon in his mouth. Daisy didn't know what made her want to wretch more – the man licking his filthy fingers or bits of icing stuck in his beard. As much as she hated to admit it, this guy actually made Tig look hygienic. "Can I help you, sweetheart?"

From her proper upbringing, gentlemen referred to women they didn't know as 'miss' or 'ma'am'. No 'sweetheart…..no 'honey'. And especially not _doll._ And again, for some reason, the last endearment didn't seem to bother her as much as the other two. But she had to remember who she was dealing with here, even as she chastised herself for being judgemental – something she was trying to stop doing. "I'm from Elliott Oswald's office. Evan Reese is on the job site today."

Prior to swallowing his second bite, the man yelled out to someone across the way – not caring about bits of sticky bun spraying out of his mouth. Thankfully, Daisy wasn't in the line of fire.

"_What?"_ The voice called back.

"This young lady's lookin' for an Evan Reese. Oswald's guy."

"Gone," the voice shouted back. "Since mid-day."

_Mid-day?_ Daisy thought to herself. She thought he was supposed to be here all day.

"Sorry, sweetheart," the man said. "Guess he left around noon. Shoulda called first and saved the trip."

"We tried – several times," she said. "But he said there isn't good service here."

The man pulled out his cell phone and looked at it. "I got full bars. Never had a problem getting' calls here."

An uneasiness Daisy hadn't felt since she overheard that little conversation Christmas day between Evan and his father suddenly rose up. Evan was supposed to be here all day. And, even though he left, why was he letting calls go to voice mail? Why did he lie about being able to get calls here?

Why was she suddenly filled with so many questions about a man she was planning to marry in less than seven months?

"Thank you," she said, carefully over-stepping the ground debris to make it back to her car.

"Hey….sweetheart?"

Groaning she turned around. "Yes?"

"That your Jag?"

Glancing over at her car, she turned back and nodded. "Yes. Why?"

"Just….be careful. Those car thefts goin' around. Architect here got his Beemer taken back in October."

Nodding her thanks, Daisy went back to her car. Once inside, she pulled her cell out and called Evan. Once….twice….three times…..finally, on the fourth ring. _"Daisy. What's up?"_

She didn't expect him to answer. Playing it cool was never her thing, but limited experience with a certain motorcycle club over the last nine months gave her a nudge. "Evan. Mister Oswald has been trying to call you. Have you checked your voice mails?"

"_Uh, no. I can't. Like I told him, the service isn't too good out here."_

Her stomach tightened behind her scooped-neck Jil Sanders blouse. "So…..you're still at Evergreen Woods?"

"_Yep. Been here all day. You still at the office?"_

The tightness in her stomach turned into a thick knot. _Liar! _She thought to herself._ Why are you lying to me?_ But Daisy was always too in control to jump to conclusions. Maybe…maybe he was still there? The site was big. Perhaps Evan left mid-day and came back and those two guys didn't know? Maybe it was just a mis-communication. But her knotted gut told her to play along.

"Actually, I just left," she lied. "Since we couldn't get a hold of you, I decided to take a ride to the job site. I'm almost there."

"_Oh…..Daisy…..no,"_ Evan stammered_. "Don't come here. Really, you don't want to. It's not a place for you to be. Listen, I'm wrapping up and heading to my car. No need to come here. Just turn around and head home. I'll call you when I get a signal."_

_He doesn't want me there"_ Daisy thought, _because he really isn't there. _She suddenly needed that information on him as soon as possible. "You don't have to. Mister Oswald was trying to call to remind you to be on the Cedar Crest project tomorrow by nine am."

"_Oh….alright. That's it?"_

"That's it." _At least, for this_, she thought.

"_Okay. I'll, uh, call you later tonight. Stockton Chamber of Commerce is having a ribbon cutting shindig for a new GC. Figure I stop by, pass out some cards, make some connections…."_

"No problem. You do what you have to do," she went along. _And so will I._


	6. Chapter 6

**This was my second favorite chapter to write. My favorite…coming up at the end! Think I can pull it off in 10.**

**Enjoy & review!**

**~/~**

**Chapter 6**

**Same Afternoon**

Hanging up, she started her Jag and got out of there. Her cool façade was beginning to simmer. Something was up with her too-good-to-be-true fiancé and she didn't know what bothered her more – the fact he deliberately lied to her about his whereabouts or that she maybe should've taken Tig's advice three months ago and 'rethought her engagement'. That alone, made her realize what a hypocrite she was. Yeah, Evan was lying, but she not only cheated on him once, but was planning to do it again only last week. If Evan didn't show up when he did…..if Tig had gotten there first…if Evan pulled up and saw the bike in her driveway?

Her stomach dropped realizing how bad it could've been, but it also served as a wake-up call to stop this crazy game. Having sex with another man to prove it meant nothing and that her fiancé meant everything was about as ludicrous as it was dangerous. After that night, she swore she'd never waste another thought on Tig Trager and threw her overly-organized self into planning the wedding of her dreams.

But first, she had to confirm the man of her dreams wasn't a closet nightmare.

Heading along the mountainside, she pressed the contacts on her phone and dialed Amanda and set it to speaker.

"_Daisy….hi."_

"Amanda, hi," she replied, trying to form her words without sounding desperate. "Listen, I was just wondering when that…..information would be ready."

"_Oh, shit you're right. I forgot. Let me call Hap and have him check with Juice."_

_Juice?_ Daisy said to herself. Juice…Hap….Maniac…Tig? Do any of these men have normal names. "Thanks."

"_Is everything okay?"_

Daisy sighed heavily. She may be able to lie to Evan, but not to her best and only friend who'd probably see right through it anyway. "I'm…still not sure. I…"her voice trailed off at a 'thunking' sound. "Oh no," she groaned, pulling over once she got past the mountainside. "Oh, no….please."

"_What?" _Amanda frantically asked on the other end_. "Daisy….what's wrong?"_

Putting her car in park, Daisy got out and looked around it to find the rear, left tire flat – the head of a very large, silver nail imbedded in it. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" she spat with utter unladylikeness.

"_Daisy…..what?"_ Amanda asked.

"My tire's flat. Big, fat nail stuck in it," she replied, as she got back in her car – pulling her wallet out of her tote. "I've got to go, Amanda. I have to find my Triple A card and call…"

"_No, don't do that,"_ Amanda said. _"Hang tight. I'll give the garage a call and see if they'll come tow you."_

"The garage?"

"_Teller-Morrow."_

Where that awful woman works in the office. "No, it's okay, Amanda. I know I have Triple A…."

"_Which will take about an hour before they get to you. Tell me where you are."_

Daisy admitted, Amanda was right. Triple A probably wouldn't give speedy service for just a flat. And Amanda could get someone at the garage to get to her quicker. She gave in and gave her location. "Thank you."

"_Not a problem."_

At least something_ wasn't_ right now.

**~A~**

"_Gem? It's Amanda?"_

"Hey, darlin'," the former queen replied over the phone. "Feeling okay?"

"_Once I stop baking every recipe in this chocolate cookbook I'll be fine."_

"Well aren't you ambitious."

"_The kitchen looks like Wonka-Land. Want to get this Nutella marshmallow fudge made before Hap gets home. He thinks I'm going overboard."_

"Sounds it. The cravings will pass. What's up?"

"_Was on the phone with Daisy while she was driving. Got a nail imbedded in her tire. She needs a tow. Think someone can go pick her up?"_

Gemma sighed heavily and looked into the garage. "Chibs and the kid are available Or….I could send Tig."

"_Gem….don't."_

"Why? Don't want the little miss to swoon?"

"_He just…..pushes the wrong buttons."_

"Fine," Gemma huffed. "But only because the little stiff-ass is your_ friend_."

"_You're too kind."_

"Don't let that get around. Just….save some fudge for me."

"_Will do."_

**~A~**

Amanda was right – Teller-Morrow's response time would blow Triple A out of the water. Then again, being married to a club member gave her a bit of clout.

Daisy hung back as she watched a man in his late forties with a heavy accent and two deep scars on either side of his mouth hook the front of her Jag up to the back of the tow truck. She remembered him from the day she showed up at the garage looking for Hap after discovering who had attacked Amanda in the back of her store. .

Standing around waiting was a kid who looked as if he could be in high school as he surveyed the tire. "Nasty puncture," the kid said. "Where the heck you pick this up?"

"Stop askin' questions the lass can't answer," the scrarred man sharply reprimanded.

The kid just shrugged, not looking at all as if he'd just been chastised. "It's okay," Daisy replied. "I think I picked it up on the construction site."

The kid's eyes widened. "No shit! You work in construction?"

"Toby! Shut yer mouth!"

This 'Toby' again just waived off the harsh warning as if used to the treatment. "Sorry. Guess you're not really dressed for it."

"I was visiting my….fiance," Daisy replied, finding it hard to get that word out. "He runs the job site. Um….how old are you?"

"Eighteen and four months," he proudly announced.

Daisy had to admit – he was adorable. Tall, lean, head shaved to military specifications – he actually looked a bit older.

"Why…..do I seem older?" he quietly asked, as if reading her mind.

She had to smile over his anticipation of an answer and had no trouble being honest. "Yes. Actually, you do."

Toby bobbed his head approvingly. "Cool."

"Done," the scarred man said as he came around the front of the truck.

"Thank you," Daisy said. "So….is there another car coming to take me to the garage?"

With a smirk that elongated those scars, the man opened the passenger-side door of the truck. "Afta you."

Was he kidding? She had to ride back in a… _tow truck_? She may have gotten her brown, suede skirt for dirt cheap on Barney's website, but she wasn't about to ruin it by sitting on the seat of a tow truck stained with God knows what. "Um…..in the truck?" she sheepishly replied. "All three of us?"

Sighing, the man looked at Toby and jerked his head to the rear of the truck. "Ride on back. Hold on to the winch. Ya fall off I ain't stoppin' ta pick ya up."

Giving a salute, Toby jumped up to the back while the man, who thought nothing of leaving a boy barely an adult stranded in the middle of the street, swept his hand towards the front seat. "Dere. Little more room."

Now wasn't the time to be fastidious. This was her only means of transportation and probably a cake-walk compared to what awaited at her destination.

**~A~**

Taking a break from the garage, Tig wiped his hands and took the cup of coffee Chuckie offered him from behind the bar. The hot beverage took the chill of the afternoon out of his bones as he watched Juice hunched over in his techno-corner. Throwing the cloth over his shoulder, he took another sip and walked over. "What're you so into?"

Popping up from his position, Juice gave a nervous smile as he pulled some papers out of the printer. "Personal favor. Friend of Amanda's."

"What?" Amanda had old lady-comrades, but only had one _friend._ "Not the stiff-ass?"

"Who?" Juice asked perplexed.

"That….Daisy chick." Tig tried to sound as un-interested as possible.

"Um….yeah." Juice then lowered his voice. "Think it's some guy she's marryin'."

Tig eyed the papers in Juice's hand before quickly snatching them out. "Hey!"

"I'm just gonna skim 'em," Tig said, just in time to see the name _Evan Reese_ before Juice pulled them out.

"Tig….boundaries, bro?"

Shrugging, he plopped into the leather chair to finish his coffee. "Whatever. I could care less."

Who was he kidding? He found his first good mood in two days. Things weren't all colorful rainbows in Evan-Land and little Miss Daisy McKay was looking to see if he was hiding some tarnished pot of gold.

Perfect. Little priss needed a good wake-up call.

**~A~**

Sliding out of the tow truck with as much dignity as she could, Daisy shook the wrinkles out of her sweater-duster while smoothing her suede skirt. As her car was lowered, the Scot jerked his head to the office. Didn't these men know how to point? "Can wait in dere, lassie."

Daisy remembered the last time she as in _there._ With that horrid woman who interrogated her as if she owned the place. Well….her husband did. _Both_ of them, according to the limited history Amanda filled her in on.

"Is there anywhere else I can wait?" It didn't hurt to ask.

Raising one brow in a curious fashion, he looked to the front of the clubhouse. Following his gaze, Daisy saw a group of women lounging around a picnic table in cheap, tight clothing. "Care to wait dere?" he challenged her.

No thank you, she said to herself. At least Gemma was fully dressed. "That's okay – I'll wait in the office."

"Good choice. Flat should take about forty five to patch up."

Entering the office, she found it empty. Good. She didn't want to be bothered or answer a mess of questions. She already had enough on her mind and didn't need this woman trying to engage in some alpha-female tug of war with her. She hoped her friendship with Amanda wouldn't put in her direct contact with the club, but in a town of less than fifteen thousand residents, it was hard to avoid.

But if she wanted to get out of there as soon as her tire was fixed she wanted to get started on any paperwork needed to expedite her departure. To the left was a trailer with a set of wooden steps – pretty much like the one on the Evergreen Woods job site. Figuring it had to be some kind of office, she decided to go search for someone. Up the three steps, she softly knocked twice then heard sputtering sounds and breathing.

"Just a minute!" A female voice quickly called out, followed by a bunch of shuffling. "Come in."

Opening the door, Daisy saw a young, very pretty blonde woman with large green eyes, pink cheeks, guilty smile and a top that was buttoned wrong. To the right, a young man in army fatigues, t-shirt and matching head tattoos had pretty much the same look. She remembered him too from that day – he was one of them – and the expressions they both wore told Daisy she almost walked in on something that had nothing to do with car repair.

"Can I help you?" the blonde woman asked.

"My car was just towed here," Daisy replied. "I was told to wait in the office, but it's empty. I need to get the paperwork started."

"Oh….sure," the blonde stammered, shimmying past her to the door. "I'll go find Gemma for you. Your name?"

"Daisy McKay. Thanks," she replied before leaning towards the blonde's ear. "Um….your _buttons." _Daisy couldn't believe she had the nerve to bring it up, but would hope someone would tell her if her clothing was out of place.

Smiling embarrassingly, the blonde's hands flew to the buttons. "Thank you," she mouthed before leaving the trailer.

"You're Daisy?"

The young man with the head tattoos asking that, Daisy lightly touched her chest with her fingers. "Yes. Why?"

"I, uh, have some…_paperwork_ for you."

Now it was Daisy's turn to pinken with embarrassment. "Oh….you….you mean…."

"Evan," was all the young man said.

This must be the one Amanda referred to as Juice – the one who did the _digging._ Clearing her throat, Daisy tried her best to sound professional. "Oh, yes. Evan. Right. That's correct." Geez, she sounded like a rambling idiot. Like she could fool _these _guys!

Juice went to the door to leave. "I'll uh…..go finish it up and bring it to ya."

"Thank you." She promptly shut her mouth and made her way back to the office to find _that woman _already behind the desk. What did she do – materialize out of thin air? "Oh. I didn't see you come back."

Gemma threw Daisy her best fake smile. "Nature called. Too much coffee today." Okay, more than Daisy needed to know. "So…..you got a flat?"

"Yes. The um….gentleman with the accent said it would be forty five minutes."

"Chibs."

"Who?"

"The….._gentleman_ with the accent," Gemma snided. "His name is Chibs."

Add another to the list whose mama didn't give them a proper name at birth.

"May as well sit," Gemma motioned to the loveseat against the wall as she went to light up. "Don't wanna wear out those pretty shoes."

"I don't…pace," Daisy cooly replied, giving the couch a once over.

Seeing what Daisy was doing, Gemma leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. "Sorry, darlin'. Didn't have a chance to have it steam cleaned prior to your arrival."

Not even in this woman's presence for a minute and already she was starting with the snide comments, Daisy thought. "I don't have a problem with the couch," Daisy retorted. "Thank you, but I prefer to stand."

Shrugging, Gemma took a drag then grabbed a pen. "Fine. It's your back. So….Amanda tells me you're getting married. How're the wedding plans coming along?"

"Fine," Daisy quickly bit out. The_ last_ thing she wanted to do was make small talk with this woman – especially about her in-limbo nuptials.

"Little testy aren't we."

"I just prefer not to discuss my personal life."

"Hmph," Gemma snorted, setting her cigarette in the ashtray. "Just with Amanda, right?"

That was it. Daisy didn't care who this woman is, or…_.was_, according to the change in ranks Amanda shared with her, she had no right to question her so boldly. Shifting her position, Daisy folded her arms defensively across her body. "With all due respect, Gemma….my friendship with Amanda is _none_ of your business."

"Didn't say it was," Gemma calmly replied. "I just want to be sure her…..affiliation is none of _yours_."

"I don't ask her questions and she doesn't tell – if that's what you're talking about."

"Good to know."

"I'm so glad you approve." Daisy couldn't help the sarcasm. She just couldn't help it. How the heck did Amanda deal with this woman?

"Careful, Daisy. Those claws'll ruin that pristine exterior of yours."

"Oh, will you please shut up." That just spilled out of Daisy's mouth. But….she _did_ say 'please'.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"I said….shut up," Daisy repeated, and the words just kept coming. "Tell me, do you badger all your customers this way or just think you can get away with me because I'm close to Amanda."

Now Gemma showed her own claws. "If her ol' man don't mind her being friends with a civilian, fine. Doesn't mean _I_ have to like it. And don't think that incident in the back of her store garnered you any special treatment from the club. Regardless of that fact, you're still nothing but an outsider."

Daisy was a cross between gasping and crying. And perhaps under normal circumstances, she would've avoided confrontation by retreating and backing off. But in the state of mind she was in right now, after having to drag a wedding date out of a fiancé who may be lying to her about his situation and whereabouts, Daisy was slowly emerging from her fashionable shell. And this woman just made it crack. "What is wrong with you, Gemma. Are you such a bitter woman that it makes you feel better to verbally tear someone apart?"

Gemma stifled a look to remain in control. "You gonna psycho-analyze me now?"

"Not at all," Daisy told her. "Like I told you, Amanda and I don't talk about the club in specifics. But she does tell me general stuff. Like how your son is now the president. I'm sure you're proud, but part of you is bothered."

Gemma sat up stiff and straight. "Be careful speaking of things you know nothing about," her voice lowly warned.

But it didn't deter Daisy at all. "I know what I see. You sit behind that desk, all dressed in intimidating black, asking questions, making demands, giving orders….it's all to keep up an outward appearance of authority, isn't it? Your son took over your husband's position. That being said, I would imagine you no longer hold_ yours_."

Shooting up from her chair, Gemma fired a deadly glare into Daisy who didn't budge. Before any kind of hell could break loose, the door from the garage opened and Phil walked in, handing Gemma a work ticket then looking at Daisy. "Tire's patched up and filled. Good to go."

"Yeah," Gemma quietly said, never taking her eyes off Daisy. "Thanks."

Once Phil left, Daisy cleared her throat and opened her purse. "How much do I owe you?"

Still standing, Gemma picked up the burning cigarette butt from the ashtray and took one last drag before extinguishing it. Her eyes still on Daisy's determined face, she regally sat back down and tore the work ticket in two. "On the house."

Daisy wasn't sure if it was some mind game Gemma was playing, but the last thing she wanted was to _owe_ this woman. "No. I can't. Let me pay…."

"Sweetheart, I think you said enough today. And as long as I hold this _position_ in the office, I can do whatever the hell I want. Now get your car and get out of here."

**~A~**

Scooping up the documents out of the printer, Juice grabbed a used, clasp envelope and shoved them in and went to walk out – catching Tig's attention from the chair. "Where you goin'?"

"Daisy…..Amanda's friend is here. Gonna give these to her."

The little stiff-ass was here? Tig thought, getting up from the chair and walking to the door. Stepping out, he saw her across the lot exiting the garage office. Through the garage bay, he saw her pale, blue Jag being lowered from the lift. Okay. Fine. She had a repair. So what? Who cares? And after last week, he no longer did. He already decided to write her off and whatever shit games they were playing. But the man in him intent on having the last word and put that bitch in her place for one final time crossed the pavement. Shit, he thought as he walked over. What was it about this little stiff-ass that got his nuts in a twist?

Watching the exchange between her and Juice, he waited for him to leave before he called out. "Hey!" Turning her head, Daisy had that deer-in-the-headlights look as he walked over. But instead of waiting, she clutched the envelope in her hands and headed for her car. "Daisy!"

Spinning around, she looked at him with pleading eyes. "I can't do this now, Tig. Please. I have to go."

Something was wrong – most likely due to why she needed her little boyfriend looked into. Still, the sarcastic prick in him wouldn't be kept down. "What….no apology at least?" Yeah – get an 'I'm sorry' out of _her_ this time.

She flashed angry, hazel eyes at him. "For what?"

Glancing around to be sure everyone was too busy to watch, he closed the gap. "You know….last week? What'd ya do – have some guilt trip and let Evan come over?"

Daisy shook her head. "No. It wasn't like that. He showed up unexpected. If….if he did after you….while you were there…..while _we_ were….." She bit her lip, unable to finish it. "I can't. _We_ can't. No more. It was a mistake."

"So you keep sayin'."

"I mean it this time."

He paused a bit. "Somethin's up."

"Nothing's up."

"Yeah? So why're you lookin' into the douche?" He punctuated that remark by eyeing the envelope.

Her mouth dropped open. "_How _the hell do you know that? Did Juice tell you….."

"No one told me nothin', doll. Small clubhouse. Shit's lyin' around," he lied.

Her eyes narrowed. "What did you see?"

"Nothin', really. Just the name. So….what're you lookin' for?"

Daisy took a step back and looked at him with loathing. "What _is_ it with you people? I respect my friend's wishes and don't question her about anything pertaining to this….club, but you can all demand answers from me. I told Gemma and now I'll tell you - my personal life is none of _anyone's _business."

Tig looked impressed. "You told Gemma that?"

"I most certainly did. I don't appreciate snide comments, vague insults and…pretense."

"_Pretense?"_ Tig snorted. "Pot callin' the kettle black, huh sweetheart?" She looked appalled as he got as close as he could without raising suspicion around him. "You think these fancy clothes hide who _you _really are? Remember, I got ya outta them. Nothin' but a front, Daisy-doll. Who you _really_ are is the hot little bitch who threw herself at me before offerin' herrself up on all fours. Don't kid yourself."

He knew that look – it was the one she had when he went to unsuccessfully apologize to her several months ago before she slapped him across the face. And now, the look on his dared her to try again. "Bet ya wanna slap the shit outta me now, huh Daze?"

Those large, hazel eyes welled up with tears, even as she tried to remain cool and collected in public. "You don't know _anything_," she hissed out.

"I _know_ somethin' ain't right in Evan-Land."

Composing herself, she took a step back to put respectable space between them. "He's lied to me. Twice. It might be nothing. I just…..need to be sure. That's all. No big deal." Phil excused himself to hand her the keys then walked away. "I have to go."

He let her take a couple of steps before this change trying to take root got the best of him. "C'mere."

She did. "What now?"

He eyed her purse and motioned with his hand. "Gimme a piece of paper."

Pulling out her Day Planner, she undid the hinges and slipped a piece out of the three ring binder – even as he huffed over the fact she couldn't just rip it out. "Pen." With trepidation, she handed over the attached pen as he looked at it. "What the hell is this?"

"A Mont Blanc fountain pen."

"A…._what_?" he shot back, then shook his head. "Nevermind." Quickly, he wrote something down and handed paper and fancy pen back.

She looked at the paper. "What's this?"

Pulling his cell out, he held it up, then eyeing the phone number written on the paper. "That don't get circulated – understand?"

Dumbfounded, she shook her head. "Why? You act like you hate me, say you don't _not _like me, act like you do, talk to me disrespectfully, get me all confused...now you're giving me your number. Why, Tig. Why are you doing this to me?"

He had no concrete answer himself. Or maybe, he just didn't want to admit the honest one. This chick drove him crazy in a bad way, but also…..in a way that kind of amused him. "Just…..look, you have any problems. Need help or somethin', just….you know….use it. Call. Or don't call. Whatever, a'ight? Just…..go on. Know you wanna get home."

Dismissing her, Daisy got in her car as he backed away – watching until the pale, blue Jag was no longer in sight.

"Little stiff-ass'got a bit too much attitude."

Tig followed Gemma's voice to find her perched in the doorway, looking a bit defeated. He wasn't sure what was said between the two women, but whatever Daisy _did _say obviously got to her. And one thing Tig knew about the only woman he truly did love - not many women rattled Gemma Teller-Morrow's cage without being able to stand upright and tell about it. And somehow, Daisy walked her five foot, nine inch, model-slender self out of the office in one piece.

Just when he made up his mind to finally pull away, the little stiff-ass pulled him right back in.


	7. Chapter 7

**A bit shorter than usual. I had to cut off here because it can't flow into the next part.**

**Chapter 7**

**Next Morning**

It should've bothered Daisy that Evan did as he asked and didn't call her the night before.

The bride-to-be in her wanted the phone to ring with a believable explanation as to his whereabouts yesterday afternoon - like maybe he was searching for some secluded place to whisk her away next month for Valentine's Day. But the sensible, structured person she had developed to match her outside was glad for the needed alone-time.

For several hours she had studied the information Juice dug up on Evan. Nothing earth shattering – no secret wife and kids in another state, no police record, no documented scandals. In that sense – he was clean as a whistle. But a modest-balance bank account showing what looked like his paychecks being deposited into every other week for the last three months was barely enough to cover just the minimum balance on two credit cards with enormous outstanding balances –_ plus_ keeping up a house. Security issues had only allowed Juice to pull up the prior month's statement for both cards and the charges on each were mind boggling. Most were clothes and dining out– which was staggering enough. But what caught her eye were two very large payments posted a week ago on each. She had gone back to his bank statement around the same time and it didn't show a check payable to the credit card companies nor a large withdrawal, so…..where did those hefty sums come from?

Aside from the questionable financials, a personal check on him confirmed only a year and two semesters worth of college so he did indeed lie on his resume. Granted, he probably wasn't the only one to do so as some firms require a potential applicant have a specific degree, but still it bothered her. Then again – she shouldn't be one to talk as she only admitted to 'attending' Berkley, but not for how long. Nor did she get into her amateur film career. Yeah, _that _would've gone over well with Warren and Cassandra Reese!

Flipping through the rest of his personal history had the last three firms he worked for which only covered a span of five years. Not as uncommon as in the olden days that you retired at the first company you worked for with a gold watch and pension.

And this morning, the quiet of the farm was just what she needed. And coffee. A nice cup of Green Mountain Breakfast Blend she picked up at the Union 76 down the street from her house. Something was terribly wrong in the universe when Daisy McKay ditched her tried and true cinnamon tea for gas station coffee. At least she was well-dressed purchasing it.

Taking a sip, she first winced at the strong brew – wondering her friend's fascination with it. Their time in between their 'girfriend visits' were spent texting to stay in touch and Amanda's giddiness over her new Keurig coffee maker got Daisy's interest up. But not as much as what Amanda did with her old coffee maker – donating it to Tig's new man-cave. So, a man closing in on fifty finally grew up and got his own place.

As hard as she tried to be secretly sarcastic, what happened yesterday between them changed Daisy's tune. Reaching into her tote she pulled out the piece of paper with Tig's cell number – still unsure as to his motive behind it. Up until yesterday, any problems she had she sorted out herself and rarely relied on anyone for help. But that was before Amanda Carson and her MC influence walked her tattooed self into that Historical Society meeting last May. What started out as a butting of heads and lifestyles turned into a friendship she cherished more than her precious Mont Blanc fountain pen.

Since then she found herself at the dreaded Teller-Morrow garage not once but twice – both times being interrogated by Gemma before ending up being seen off by Tig. She covered for her friend at the emergency room and tended to her later on after she was attacked in the back of her store and kept her mouth shut about the incident – never once did she feel 'entitled' to any special recognition as Gemma accused. But the love/hate sparrings she had with a piercing blue-eyed biker which culminated with a fast and furious fifteen minutes of sex on her couch had opened her eyes to how she displayed herself to the world. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to loosen up, get the house a little dirty, not finish a round of Sodoku, even run out to the store in sneakers, sweatpants and unwashed hair. Maybe there wasn't such a thing as a perfect match. Maybe it's what you can't see, what's below the surface, behind the grand illusion of a false persona. Maybe she wasn't the only one guilty of it – that perhaps the man who slipped that two carat diamond on her finger four months ago was as well.

Tucking the paper back in her tote, Daisy went for the manila envelope – not wanting to keep it lying around the house as Evan had a key. "No," she said, letting go and shoving her tote under the desk. She needed to get to work and the sight of Elliott Oswald's receding hairline passed by the office window until he reached the front door.

"Morning, Daisy," he said, entering.

"Good morning, Mister Oswald," she replied, ready for whatever needed to be done for the day. "Everything's all set with Evan. Was able to get a hold of him yesterday. He should be on Cedar Crest as we speak."

Oswald nodded. "Good. Was it the signal not getting through?"

As much as Daisy wanted to call out Evan for his lies, she couldnt say for sure. Perhaps Evan couldn't get a signal, and Cinnabon guy just had a better phone plan. "Yes, that's what it was."

Sliding his sport coat on, he glanced at the wall clock. "Okay – trainers are started and there's several people coming for lessons. Got some contractors coming in to give an estimate for additional stalls, so you'll have to let them in. Landscapers should be here in an hour – their check is made out and signed – just need you to fill in the amount and pay them. Contact our PR firm and set up an appointment about scheduling event planning – just plug the date and time in my iSchedule."

Daisy scribbled everything as neat as she could with a pencil. There was something about having your day planned out with what needed to be done. It almost took away the reality of what she actually needed to do. "Will do. So…..is your wife's Caddy being delivered?"

"On my way to meet the flatbed now. My brother and his wife are in Colorado for the next month, so I'm gonna store it in his garage. Figure since I missed Christmas, I'm gonna hold off and give it to her for Valentine's Day."

Other than a romantic weekend at a cozy B&B feeding each other strawberries and chocolate in bed and washing it down with a bottle of Cristal, Daisy thought being presented with a luxury, custom painted convertible was right up there.

"Plus, I want it locked up safe with all these thefts going on," he added. "You and Evan keep an eye on your cars too, you hear?"

"Yes, we will."

Once he left, Daisy took her scribbled notes, retrieved a clean, lined pad and prioritized it. There was something calming about writing everything down, in order with little boxes drawn to the left to check off as they're done. But that head of hers was suddenly being nagged by these thefts. They already hit too close to home when someone broke into one of Oswald's stalls – not to mention the job sites. What's to stop that person from seeing her Jag here, following her home to see where she lived and pilch her car right out of the driveway in the middle of the night?

Maybe if she knew more about these thefts she could better safeguard herself. After listing her last item, she put the pad aside and called up Google – typing in _'luxury car thefts in California area'_. What popped up were numerous links to area newspaper articles about them. With too much to ingest, Daisy copied the Google search link and pasted it in an email to her personal address.

Later on tonight, after she got home, after a to-go order of delicious Fettuccini Bolognese from her favorite little Italian place, after a warm soak in a sandlewood scented bath, after putting aside her financially inept fiancé would she slip into her mint-green robe, make a large cup of cinnamon tea and do some reading.

**~A~**

**Next Afternoon**

"Well, will ya look at that?"

Maniac swiped his beer off the picnic table where he was sitting with Tank at his feet and a girl by his side at the sight of a motorcycle and its young rider pulling down to the garage. "Later, sweetface," he told the girl, giving her a hard kiss on the cheek before getting up to check out the sight. Tank followed him down as other curious looker's-on came out.

"Well, well, well." Jax twisted his cap around and lit up a smoke before circling the rider. "Aren't you the shit."

"That's what I said," Maniac replied. "So, kiddo – how does it feel to finally have somethin' big between your legs?"

Straddling a bike he put together with his own two hands over the last four months, Toby grinned over the innuendo as he stroked the gas tank as if it were mink. "Man, this is so freakin' sweet! It humms, man. Rides smooth. Man, it feels…."

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," Jax filled in – smirking over the kid's enthusiasm.

Toby's smile was a mile wide. "Better. Better than sex even."

"Yeah, I'm sure the little redheaded cookie would love to hear that," Tig said, watching from afar.

Leaning inside one of the bays, Bobby sipped his coffee and winced at the bike. "Speakin' of which, did she pick out the color?"

Before Toby could answer, another bike pulled in carrying Happy. Upon seeing the gathering at the garage, he drove straight down and stopped. His bike idling, he reached inside his cut, pulled something out and tossed it to Bobby. "Here. To go with your coffee."

Catching the plastic zip-lock bag, Bobby's face lit up as he opened it. "Fudge?"

Happy shook his head. "My ol' lady's bakin' her way through an entire chocolate cookbook. Gettin' the stuff outta the house before she puts my kid in a sugar coma." He cut off the sentence when he realized what everyone had come out to see. Seeing what Toby was sitting on, Happy pretended to be blinded. "Kid – you high when you picked that color out?"

"It's not bright," Toby defended as he fondled his bike. "It's a mild shade of yellow called 'Sunglow'."

"More like 'Sungay'," Maniac quipped.

"Really, kid," Jax chimed in. "No MC I know would have someone roll with 'em ridin' somethin' the color of a fruit basket."

Toby's face immediately fell as he scanned the four serious-looking men around him – not sure if they were making fun or not. "Well, that's okay," he said, trying to shrug it off. "I mean, it's not like I'm lookin' for, ya know, anything like that. I just wanna ride."

The men eyed each other, trying to keep straight faces as Toby looked about to break down in tears. "Well," Jax slapped his back. "Least everyone'll see ya comin' a mile away."

Joining in the laughter at his expense, Toby lowered the kickstand, removed his helmet and swung off. Running a hand over his short-clipped hair, he walked past Bobbie who offered him a piece of consolation fudge. "Relax, T-Boy," Bobby quietly told him. "You know they're just jostlin' your gonads."

"Huh?" was all Toby could get out as he shoved the entire piece of chocolate in his mouth

Bobby gave him a proud smile. "You did a good job. Put that together piece by piece with your own money and your own hands. Not a lot of men can say that."

Swallowing the fudge hard, Toby slid his TM workshirt on – getting all sheepish over the praise. "Thanks Bobby."

"Just, you know….maybe airbrush some menacin' shit on the tank or somethin'," Bobby added.

"Really? Ya think?" The kid's face lit up. "You mean, like a reaper?"

"No! You do that and I'll personally scrape it off," Bobby warned. "Only members wear the reaper.'

"Right…right…sorry. I'll, uh….think of somethin'."

"Not now. Stop bullshittin' and get to work."

Toby hightailed it inside as the men remained out. Jax was the first one to speak up. "Think we were all a bit like that our first time on a bike," he said, just as his cell went off. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out – his eyes narrowing at the display.

"What is it?" Bobby walked over to ask.

"Don't know. Display's all zeros." Taking a deep breath, he flipped it open. "Yeah? It is. How did you…..? Okay….sure. When? _Now?_ It'll take us about an hour to….you're _where_?" Jax's eyes widened, his nostrils flared in anger. "Exactly _where_ are you?"

The answer on the other end was followed by a click as the caller hung up. "Son of a bitch," he quietly seethed. "That was Pope. He's got some intel and decided to personally come here to deliver it."

"Pope's here?" Tig asked. "In Charming?"

"Not just _in_ Charming," Jax said, looking at Hap. "We gotta roll…..now!"

**~A~**

A satisfied grin graced Damon Pope's face as he closed his burner cell as a woman's voice turned him around. "Will that be it?"

He took the bursting bouquet of pink tea roses offered to him, handing over a hundred dollar bill in the process. "Yes. It is. Thank you, Miss…"

"It's Amanda," the young woman replied"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Keep the change."

"Excuse me?"

The young woman was pretty, Pope thought. Very pretty. With a pair of brilliant blue eyes that could suck a man right in. "Keep the change," he repeated.

"But…that's sixty five dollars."

He feigned thought, then smiled. "So it is." His smile faded just a bit at the sound of motorcycles in the distance. He saw her catch the sound too. "That's my cue. You have a sparkling day, Amanda."

**~A~**

The bikes drew closer to Main Street when Jax held his hand up to halt. Flanking him, Happy braced his feet against the pavement to steady himself as best he could – considering what was going down. "What're you doin', pres?"

With Bobby on the other side, Tig and Maniac behind, Jax shook his head. "Don't you see – he's darin' us to ride up like we've got the devil on our nuts. All it's gonna do it make a huge scene – one we don't need."

"Jax…..Amanda…"

"I know, bro," he told Hap, before turning to Bobby. "Turn around – head to the beginning of Baker Street from the other side. Come down on your own – slowly. You two," he said to Tig and Maniac, "hang back, but keep idlin'. Hap and I'll meet 'im, Bobby'll join us, but I want him to hear you two in the distance."

It was like a chess move, but it was smart. No doubt Pope put them in a frantic spot. "Think he knows who Amanda is?" Bobby asked.

"Has to," Hap bit out, anxious to get going.

"Or a hell of a coincidence," Tig added.

"C'mon, let's go." Bobby led back the other way leaving his president and sergeant to make the initial meet.

They sped up, bringing their bikes to a glide in the center of town before turning down Baker Street. Amid the spattering of town folk going about their day, a sumptuous, black Bentley was practically double parked right in front of Petal To The Metal, catching glances from passers-by. Its driver stepped out of the vehicle, just as the passenger they were awaiting exited the quaint flower and gift shop with a bouquet of roses in his hand – a smug smile on his face.

"You made good time, I see," Pope told Jax as he approached him.

Behind Jax, Happy looked through the window of the shop – making brief eye contact with Amanda before nodding towards Jax. Satisfied she was unharmed, Jax looked at Pope. "Unexpected visit?"

"Thought I'd save you the trouble of a ride, Mister Teller."

"Coulda done this over the phone."

"True. But, I thought I'd take it upon myself to see where you operate." He leisurely glanced around the street. "Your lieutenant was right – this little village wouldn't have survived a gang war."

Happy looked none too pleased. "What were you doin' in the store?"

"Hap," Jax quietly told him, before regarding Pope. "Really? Cuttin' it a bit close?"

Pope looked clueless. "Whatever do you mean?"

Jax eyed the bouquet. "Long way to come for flowers."

"Like I said, Mister Teller. I took a ride. Found myself in the center of town. Saw this lovely gift shop which also sold flowers. Thought I'd stop by and visit my daughter's grave on the way back." He twirled the bouquet in his hands. "Veronica loved pink."

Jax and Happy eyed each other – having no choice but to give Pope the benefit of the doubt. The man wasn't an idiot – he had to have known who Amanda was and this little pit-stop was nothing but some twisted mind-fuck. But if for some chance it was some coincidence, they didn't want to let on as to why they were so on edge with this visit. "Don't wana keep ya, then," Jax told him. "You got some information for us?"

Pope inhaled the fragrant flowers, closing his eyes in brief thought before opening them. "Four man crew. Seem to be making their way from Eureka – working their way down. They don't stay in one spot long – hit about four or five jobs before moving on. My guess – if they're somewhere around here, they may hang until they get their quota."

Jax nodded, ingesting everything he heard. "Names?"

"No. And you'll be hard pressed to get them. From the pattern they've established they work quickly and move on fast."

Jax folded his arms, shaking his head in thought. "How the hell we gonna catch a movin' target?"

"You don't," Pope told him. "You give them a reason to slow down."

"Flush 'em out," Happy told Jax.

Pope grinned. "See how easy that was? If you want to trap the lion, you tempt him with a piece of meat. Now if you'll excuse me I've got a long drive back." Escorted to the waiting Bentley by his driver, Pope looked over at city hall on the corner of Main and Baker before looking back. "You give your lieutenant my regards. Tell him he has a lovely town." Pope got in then rolled down the window after the door closed. "Good luck, Mister Teller. I'll be sending someone for that little finder's fee."

"Appreciate a call first," Jax half-joked.

Tapping a finger against his chin, Pope replied as the Bentley pulled out. "Now where's the fun in that?"

Bobby was pulling down the street just as the large vehicle passed until it was out of sight. Happy broke from them and went into the store where Amanda stood puzzled behind the counter. "What was _that_ all about?"

"You alone?"

"Erin's in back having lunch."

"What happened in here, A?"

Again, she appeared lost. "What do you mean? Nothing ..….."

"What did _he _want?"

"That black man?" Just….flowers. Why?"

"That it? You sure? He say anything….?

"Whoa, ..…..slow down."

He went around to join her behind the counter. "Amanda, I'm serious." He always was when he used her full name.

"So am I. He just wanted flowers. A thirty five dollar bouquet of flowers he gave me a hundred dollar bill for and told me to keep the change."

The door swung open and Jax stepped in followed by Bobby. "Everything cool?"

Amanda looked from Happy who nodded, then to Jax and back. "Who was that man?"

Jax gave Happy a _'your call'_ look. The faces of the men, usually so poker and unreadable, were a bit open now. And with what happened not too long ago, it didn't take long for a now-seasoned old lady like Amanda to put it together. "It was _him_. Wasn't it? The man who wanted me run over?" No one had to confirm her suspicion as their silence was loud enough. "Oh my God," she whispered, taking a step back. "It _was._ In _my_ store?"

From the back Erin emerged. "Amanda?" She just halted, her eyes taking in the sight of her boss and the three Sons and wisely not saying a word.

Amanda took Happy's arm to keep him from saying anything. "There's a list of office supplies on my desk which need to be ordered," she told Erin, distracting her. "Can you go online to Staples and get them in the cart?"

"Yeah, sure," the girl with the infamous terra-cotta hair replied before disappearing.

When they were alone, Happy repeated to the others what Pope had done, raising a brow out of Bobby. "Guilt-_tip_, maybe?"

"If that's the case, he owes her a lot more than sixty five bucks," Hap said.

"That's assumin' he knew who Amanda was," Bobby replied.

"He had to have," Amanda quietly chimed in. "If the driver knew to have me followed that day, they knew to start from…here." She suddenly chilled. "Hap, he's not gonna…."

"No! He ain't," he quickly told her.

"We have an agreement with 'im," Jax assured her. "_This_…was just some mind game." He motioned to Hap. "Wrap up here. Meet ya back at the clubhouse."

Alone, Happy held his wife's face in his hands. "One more time, A. You sure that's all that happened here?"

She placed her hands against his chest. "I'm positive."

Removing one hand, he trailed it to her shoulder, down her arm then…over until his fingertips lightly touched her slightly protruding stomach. "Feelin' a'ight?"

She lowered one hand to place over his…..over their child. "No. _We_ have a big problem."

Dark eyes flashed. "What?"

"It has to do with a bag of missing fudge."

**~A~**

From their waiting post, Tig and Maniac made their way down Baker Street. Both men stopped their bikes and braced their feet on the ground. "Well?" Maniac asked.

Jax mounted and secured his helmet. "Got somethin' to go on," he replied, looking at Bobby. "Round everyone up when ya get back. Tomorrow – eleven a.m. – we'll discuss at the table."

"What about her?" Tig asked, looking at the gift shop. "She a'ight?"

"Fine. Pope just pushin' buttons – knowin' we can't do a damn thing."

Only three men took off as Tig remained behind, continuing to stare through the gift shop window, watching the tender exchange between Hap and his wife. Even though she wasn't hurt, she didn't need the mental stress – especially in her condition – and Tig was sure Hap was thinking the same thing and was prepared to take another beating for his foolishness this all caused.

Emerging from the store, Tig saw Happy's surprised look. "Why you still here?"

"Just…" he really didn't know what to say. "Is Amanda okay?"

"She's fine."

Looking through the window, he saw Amanda staring out before she lifted a hand to wave. All Tig could do was nod back, not feeling as if he had the right to do anything for what he had caused that woman. All because of he couldn't accept the change happening within his club, went out, got drunk, lost control of his bike, caused an innocent woman's death - and almost Amanda's. Too many close calls were racked up during his tenure in the MC which were patched up and swept under the carpet. No more. Responsibility now had to be a way of life more than ever. And as he eyed the adjacent building, the first order had to be acceptance of the circumstances around him.

"I'll be back later," he told Hap. "Got some things to do." Waiting until his brother was out of sight, Tig rode to an available spot and backed in to the curb. The tattoo shop next to Amanda's store had only one customer in it – a young man getting an Angry Bird inked on his forearm.

"Be with ya shortly, man," the owner said amid the buzzing needle.

"Take your time," Tig said, looking at the various designs which covered almost an entire wall. Lots of bullshit, cliché stuff – not the kind of ink which tells the story of the life you led. But there wasn't a design vile enough to describe his – at least, if there were they were probably already on Happy's body.

To an outlaw, ink wasn't taken lightly. Whereas a person could hide behind clothing, jewelry or a fancy car, once stripped of them, they couldn't hide who they _truly_ were. Once imbedded in your skin, ink was a permanence from which you could not hide, just like the finished product it produced represented who you were.

Or in Tig's case, who he needed to be now.

**~A~**

**Later That Night**

The information was overwhelming. Articles upon articles on these luxury car thefts which seemed to have started up near Eureka and made its way south and even as far west as Oakland. Daisy finally had a quiet night to peruse the links as her plan to do this the night before was disrupted by Evan's sudden dinner invitation.

At least she was able to indulge in her Fettuccine Bolognese while her fiancé incessantly chatted about the Evergreen Woods and Cedar Crest projects. It was almost like he was giving a blow by blow itinerary of the last two days – as if trying to cover his tracks about not being where he was supposed to. She half chalked it up to paranoia and let it go for the moment, especially when he shifted the conversation to talk about the wedding.

But the diversion of the night before didn't keep her from reading up on these thefts – the whereabouts, the type of car taken, the location – all but the vehicle owners whose names were kept out for privacy sake. None of the vehicles seemed to have been taken from their homes, but from where they worked, from store parking lots or places where they had appointments.

And as Daisy continued to read, some kind of a pattern began to form in her head – especially the names of the last several locations. And with the recent break-in at the farm, it was either a huge coincidence or…..

Rummaging through some papers she took home from the office, she found the piece of paper in question and compared the information on it to the last four theft locations. She double, even triple checked to be sure what she saw was correct. The paper in her hand shook as she went for her mug of hot, cinnamon tea – hoping it would stave off the chill which just went up her spine. It had to be a coincidence. It _had_ to be. But….what if it wasn't?

From what she read, the authorities had no witnesses, no leads – nothing to go on. But if this pattern meant something, Daisy would be doing an injustice if she didn't speak up – even if it meant possible, personal damage. Yes, she'd go to the police. In the morning. Maybe. Damn, she hated this – not being in confident control, not being certain. Maybe there was another way to figure this out. Even though the pattern she discovered was too eerie to ignore, she could be wrong. Going to the police would be too drastic a move for something she couldn't confirm.

Like steel to a magnet, she reached for her tote, pulling out the piece of paper inside. Tig's cell number stared back at her as she glanced from it to her phone. _"No,"_ she told herself out loud. "What am I _thinking_?"

"_Just…..look, you have any problems. Need help or somethin', just….you know….use it._

That's what Tig told her after giving her his number. She didn't need help, nor was this a problem…at least, not yet. She then thought he was the_ last_ person she should call on this – just more fuel for him to toss onto the fire. But, on the other hand, the Sons were in business with her boss – kept their auction inventory on his property, so they could be affected by this. And Oswald did call them down when he had the break-in. Maybe the Sons are looking into these thefts – maybe trying to find a way to thwart them before they get hit. What she discovered could be nothing, but…..what if it was something? A possible clue – one that could actually be used to stop these thefts? How could she live with herself if she kept silent?

She immediately grabbed her cell. Daisy knew Tig would recognize her home line having already called her on it. One by one she tapped each number, pausing over the last one. Once she tapped it, she put the phone to her ear and, upon hearing the first ring, immediately hung up.

**~A~**

**Fifteen Minutes Earlier**

"Yo, sweetheart. Got much longer?"

Tig relaxed on the couch as he polished off his beer. The sweetbutt he scooped up from the club and brought back to his place for the mere purpose of making him dinner was stirring a wooden spoon in a pan. "Ten or fifteen minutes," she called back. "Water's boiling for the pasta and I'm heating up a jar of sauce."

"_Jar_? Thought you were gonna make some home made shit?

A year or two of service at the club made the twenty –five year old girl look hard and fatigued – and Tig's impatience right now made her look nervous. "Um, no. Why would you think that?"

What was her name again? "Colette? Ain't that Italian?"

"French."

Shit. Well, food was food. "Whatever. Just….hurry up."

A knock at the door made him groan. "I'll get it," Colette offered.

Tig popped up. "Nah. Finish cookin' before I chew my fingers." Looking out the side window he saw George – no doubt just finishing closing up the package store. He opened the door, his eyes going from George straight to the German Shepard waiting below. "Somethin' wrong?"

"No, nothing," George replied. "Saw your bike and knew you were home. Just wanna give you a heads up. Got a dead tree in my store's lot leaning near the wires. Having a tree service come by early tomorrow to take it down so, it's gonna be a bit noisy."

Wonderful. Nothing like being woken up with the sound of chirping birds and chainsaws. "Yeah, thanks," Tig replied, glancing down at the dog who looked to be waiting for an invite. All he did was move aside and Sasha made her way inside, sweet as you please.

"No, no," George called out. "C'mon, girl. We gotta get you home."

"She can stay." It came out of his mouth without thinking. He already had female company for the night. Well, maybe not the entire night.

"What? No, she can't…."

"It's a'ight. Ain't goin' nowhere till tomorrow mornin'. Can walk her next store before I leave."

George peeked inside and smirked. "You sure? Your….ladyfriend won't mind?"

"She minds what I tell her to mind."

Taken back a bit by the gruff comment, George then saw how comfy Sasha made herself on the little area rug. "Okay, then. Thanks. Little tough for her to get in the car."

Now Tig had to smirk because the dog had no problem hopping on the couch. Little bitch was probably quite the actress. "No problem. See ya in the mornin'." When he closed the door, he looked over at Colette. "Ready?"

The girl just pointed at the dog. "Yours?"

"Favor. Let her be. So….."

Colette held up two plates. "Ready."

After wolfing down two forkfuls, his cell went off. "Shit," he murmured, pulling it out. But it only rang once, then stopped. The caller ID displayed the number which, although local, wasn't familiar. He thought to dial it back and see who it was, then decided against it. He had a better idea.

"Here," he handed the remote to Colette. "Be right back."

In his room, he punched a number in his cell.

"_Yeah?"_

"Juice – need ya to run a number for me." He did as told and the findings came up in record time. "Thanks." Clicking off, he went back to the living room to find Colette practically hanging off the other end of the couch because Sasha found her way up to take over most of it. "What's your problem?"

Colette glanced at the dog giving her a death stare. "She practically pushed me off."

"Stop exaggeratin'," Tig huffed, grabbing his cut. "Watch her. I'll be back in an hour."

**~/~**

**So, it probably won't be finished in 10. 12, maybe. Oh, whatever it takes!**

**Glad you're all enjoying and appreciate your feedback. Everyone have a great Thanksgiving.**


	9. Chapter 9

******Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving holiday! Back to work tomorrow!**

**Enjoy & review!**

**Chapter**** 9**

Fastening a clip to hold her mass of chocolate-cherry hair on top of her head, Daisy sunk as far as she could under the sandlewood scented water – hoping it would open her pores enough so that all the anxiety would seep out of them. Her life was going perfectly and structurally fine up until a few months ago. She had a good job, a good friend, great wardrobe and, up till now, a model boyfriend. But as soon as he put a ring on her finger, it seemed as if a gigantic can of worms opened up and spilled out – one being named Tig Trager.

Two days – two lousy days was all it took for Daisy to forget about engaged bliss and throw herself at a man who made Tony look like a boy scout. And all of Tig's snide remarks, veiled insults, backhanded compliments and unspoken promises of what he was capable of were the elements of a dangerous man – one that Daisy couldn't stop being drawn to. Was this her downfall? Was it some rebellious nature brought upon by her upbringing which caused her poor choices in men who would ruin her reputation and her life?

Even though what she discovered on the thefts was circumstantial, she couldn't ignore their possibility. She still hadn't decided how to go about delving further into this without raising suspicion. But she did decide she'd do it on her own – that she wouldn't give Tig the satisfaction of thinking she needed his help.

Emerging from the cooling water, she drained the tub then blotted her warm skin with a soft towel. She went to undo the hair clip when a pounding on her back door startled her. Shit, Evan? But he had a key - unless, he didn't want to startle her like he did the last time he came over unannounced. Remembering her open laptop and the documents Juice found on him lying on the kitchen table, Daisy panicked as she hastily tossed on and belted her mint green robe.

"Just a minute," she called out as she quickly made it into the kitchen. Before she could swoop everything off the table, she gasped when she glanced through the paned window of the kitchen door – not seeing Evan, but the face of a man whom she remembered all too well what he did the last time he was here. Clasping her already closed robe tighter about her, she backed away from the door with her eyes on him through the glass. "What're you doing here?"

Tig's eyes rolled with impatience behind the glass. "Let me in, Daze."

He was so confident she would and her hand was on the knob even as she thought it. Momentarily oblivious to her appearance, she unlocked the door – backing away as he let himself in. "What do you want?" she asked.

He let his eyes do a long, slow journey up her five foot nine inch body wrapped only in a thin robe first before answering. "You always answer the door late at night like that?"

"I thought you were Evan."

"Yeah?" he asked amused, "you two, uh…..had plans dressed like that?"

"No," she bit out, grabbing her robe tighter. "I wasn't expecting him. I was in the bath tub when you knocked. I thought it was probably him."

"Had no reason to think it was me?" he asked.

Her breath quickened as he inched a bit forward. "Why would I?"

His head swung to the kitchen table where her cellphone was. Picking it up, he clicked it on to display her number. "Cuz someone rung my phone once from this number."

Releasing the death grip on her robe, she lunged towards him and ripped the phone out of his hand. "So you just took it upon yourself to come over here? Calling first would've saved you the trip."

"When it hung up after one ring, thought somethin' might be wrong – like maybe the douche had you at knifepoint or somethin'."

She saw his eyes fall to the separation in her robe between her breasts. Clutching it together, she again backed towards the counter. "I'm fine. You can go now."

"What did you want?"

"What?"

"Why did you call me?"

She bit the inside of her bottom lip, shaking her head. "Nothing. I didn't mean to."

"Really, doll? You punched in seven numbers by mistake?"

_Tell him_, she thought to herself. _Just tell him._ He's here. He figured her out. She should just toss what she decided to do aside and go with her first instinct. Walking to the kitchen table, she spun her laptop to face him – the Google search with all of the articles still running. "I was reading up on these luxury car thefts," she explained. "I guess I was getting nervous because of the break in at the farm. While reading them, something stuck out."

Tig's face was now serious – business serious. "What?"

"It….it may be nothing or…..a really big coincidence…"

Her took her by the elbow - tugging her back to face him. "Tell me."

Daisy's resolve was pure jello right now. He was disheveled, demanding and those fingers of his were digging into her arm. _Out,_ her mind screamed. _Demand he let you go and tell him to get out. _But the side of her which made poor choices wanted him to drag her back to the couch and make her see stars again.

As if he could read a woman's thoughts like a book, her gave her arm another tug, jolting that heavy mass of hair of hers loose from the clip. "Focus, doll-face."

"The locations," she sputtered out. "Where the cars were taken. I recognized three of the places where six of the thefts were taken." She pulled her arm back, silently telling him to let her go. "Here's a list of the locations I wrote down from the online articles."

He scanned them and shrugged. "Yeah? So?"

She then lifted her laptop and grabbed a document stuck under it. "Those three places – all were new construction sites," she said, handing to him the piece of paper. "Look at the history on that."

Tig read the details as his eyes jockeyed back and forth between the two pieces of paper. "Son of a bitch," he murmured.

Maybe he was being kind as she expected a more obnoxious comment than that. "That…that could be just a coincidence, right?

"If you thought that, you wouldn't have called me now would you?"

Daisy felt trapped – his words just confirmed her earlier actions, even though….deep down….she didn't want it to be true. He offered help, took him up on it and now she had to see whatever the consequences were to completion. "What do I do?" She sounded broken and lost as she dipped her head in somewhat of defeat, until she felt fingers lift her chin.

"You gonna listen if I tell ya?"

Again, this could all be just a big misunderstanding that could all be cleared up by a confrontation and explanation. But something deep in Daisy's gut, all the little signs she'd seen recently led her to believe that the information she discovered was just_ too_ coincidental to be just that. "Yes. I will."

His hand moved to the back of her neck, her spine stiffening as his fingers threaded her damp hiar - causing feelings and thoughts she shouldn't be having while wearing a ring given to her by another man. "Real simple, Daze. You say nothin' about this. Not to Evan. Not to Oswald. Not to Amanda. No one."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"But are you going to…."

"I'll have this checked out," he cut her off. "See if it means anything."

She nodded. "You'll let me know if it does?"

"Daisy…"

"I need to know, Tig. I'm affected by this if it does. You have to let me know….."

Her hair found itself fisted in his hand – rendering her almost motionless as he pulled her up against his body. The cool of his leather sunk right through her robe as his lips were instantly on hers – a hard, rough kiss which was meant to convey a message rather than to seduce. Rather than pull his mouth away, he tugged her hair, tipping her head back– those piercing blue eyes of his capturing hers with purpose. "Don't talk, a'ight? And don't tell _me_ what _I _gotta do. Just trust me and do what I said."

Trust him? Trust _him_? A man whom she loathed, who seemed to get off on ridiculing her with sarcasm and veiled insults from her wardrobe to choice of future husband? Now the consequences of possibly another poor choice she made in her life rode on her trusting him to verify it. She trusted enough to initially call him. She agreed to do what he said. Now she had to follow it through.

"Why?"

His eyes narrowed. "You gonna question me now?"

"No, why did you….kiss me?"

"To shut ya up?"

Eyes narrowed, she slipped out of his grasp and backed away. "Fine. I'll do what you say. You can go now."

He snickered. "Gemma's right – you got way too much attitude, doll."

Her eyes bugged out. "_That _woman said _I_ had an attitude? Are you kidding me?"

"Don't waste your time, Daze," he told her. "Can't fool me. All that outward shit," he waved his hand up and down her body," just coverin' up who you really are.

"Stop saying that!"

"Truth hurts, don't it."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you're pissed I kissed ya just to shut ya the fuck up."

The vulgarity made her stiffen – just like her sudden resolve to want to put this man in his place every time she came into contact with him. "As opposed to?"

He wasn't gentle nor did he show her any consideration in her own home. She asked and he answered – by taking her by the shoulders and pinning her up against the side of the refrigerator, his mouth coming down on her with furious pressure as his hands found nothing but clean, naked skin through her robe. And like the last time this happened in this very same kitchen, Daisy's arms went around his neck, pulling him closer, if possible, sliding one leg up the side of his. Even as she pressed herself against him, she despised herself for it. What was it about this man which dissolved her inhibitions? Maybe because he able to see through the pretense and saw who she really was – a woman with a need to be wanted physically. She couldn't act this way with Evan – he would be too judgemental. But with Tig, with this man who was a complete opposite of everything she thought to be perfect for her, she gave herself permission to let go.

Her hands roamed everywhere they could, even as his slid down to her bare leg to the hem of her robe. When she felt those fingers on her skin, making their way up to her bareness, he pulled away. "Jesus, Daze," he breathed, his hand still full of her robe. "Know how easily I can tear this off ya?"

Her left hand came up to hold the only piece of material shielding her decency. She watched his eyes catch the two-carat diamond it displayed – a look of disgust on his face. He immediately backed away towards the door. "Gotta head back. I'll let ya know."

**~A~**

Bitch! Stiff-assed little bitch!

Cursing Daisy on the ride home did nothing to alleviate Tig's frustration. As much as he focused on what she told him about the thefts, the sight of her all damp and warm wearing nothing but miles of sweet-smelling skin under that robe screwed with his head. And for a chick to call him out of his house, away from his dinner, away from a young, French croweater he could've made her pay for those inconveniences and taken what he knew she wanted.

But damn him and the damn change in his life! Scruples he never possessed found a way inside him and the sight of that ring on her finger was like a bucket of ice cold water. If he had to exercise some kind of change it would be to not fuck with what wasn't his. The punishment he'd receive if he did this with a brother's old lady would be dire – so he wasn't going to be a hypocrite to get away with it with a civilian with a pair of legs and head of hair that made him crazy.

The ink he got earlier that afternoon suddenly burned his side – just like the red flames etched into his skin. Kicking his Dyna in to high gear, he sped back home as fast as he could. He should call Jax about what he discovered, but church was tomorrow at eleven. Right now, he was tired, he was hungry and horny as a dog.

Dog! Shit, the dog.

Pulling up to the small, rental house he went inside to find Colette half asleep on the floor, her back leaned up against the couch where Sasha stretched her entire body out across. The old pooch's head lifted upon seeing him and gingerly got down to greet him. He threw his plate of cold pasta into the microwave – the slamming door waking the young croweater. "When did you get back?"

Pulling the remainder of his dinner out, he wolfed what was left down and threw the plate in the sink. Still not answering her, he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and chugged it in one gulp. Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the rug on the floor. "Stay there," he told Sasha who dipped her head before circling her body before plopping it down. Sliding his cut and holster off, he reached down and pulled Colette up and towards his room. "C'mon – got fifteen minutes then you gotta leave."


	10. Chapter 10

**We're getting there. Been tough to find inspiration because I officially loathe Season 5. Everyone's going down the tubes and Clay, whom I thought was irredeemable, actually made me feel for him again. Kudos to Ron Perlman and his amazing performance the other night. If Sutter can keep his gutter-mouth shut, maybe RP will be in line for an Emmy.**

**Enough griping - enjoy and review!**

**~/~**

**Chapter 10**

**Next Morning**

**Thursday 1/17/13**

"Son of a bitch."

Tig let out a sarcastic sound. "That's what I said."

Putting aside the papers Tig gave him, Jax looked down the table at Juice. "You checkin' those articles?"

Swiftly working the mouse pad, Juice did his president's bidding as the search popped up on his laptop. "Got 'em right here," he said – then called off the theft locations one by one.

"They right?" Clay asked down the end.

"Three of 'em are listed here ," Jax held one of the papers up, "right smack on Evan Reese's resume. Last three places he worked at."

"You think he's stealin' cars on the side?" Bobby asked.

"Little douche wouldn't get his hands dirty," Tig snided. "Whoever this crew is, I'm bettin' he's their snitch."

"Make's sense," Happy said. "He works the area, see who drives what, knows their schedules, where they're gonna be….."

"…..where they keep their cars," Chibs added.

Leaning forward, Jax scanned the men around the table. "Any reason _not _to think this is a possibility?"

"Big, giant coincidence?" Opie called out.

"Possibly," Clay answered. "But there is such a thing as _too _much of a coincidence."

In the back, Maniac raised his hand. "One question," he said, looking over at Tig with a smirk. "How'd you get this?"

Tig cast him a look. "Does it matter?"

"No. Just wonderin' why some chick would call you with incriminatin' evidence on her future husband."

At the head, Jax flicked his lighter – looking amused as well. "Inquirin' minds wanna know."

Tig waited for this. He was just surprised it took this long for them to bust his nuts. "Knew Juice was lookin' into 'im for her. She thought he might be trouble." He stopped. There was no way he could spin this to make it look like it wasn't. "Look, she's Hap's ol' lady's friend. Just did her a favor…..told her to give a holler if she had a problem."

"Turnin' over a new leaf, brother," Maniac mused. "How 'bout that!"

"How 'bout blowin'me?"

"Don't get me excited before lunch."

"A'ight," Jax interjected, blowing a stream of smoke out. "Let's figure out if it's worth lookin' into."

"Accordin' to Pope, this crew moves around and works fast," Bobby said. "Don't think Evan's one of 'em, but Tig's right – he could be tippin' 'em off about the cars."

"So, whadda we do?" Opie asked.

A moment of silence passed before Happy looked at Jax. "Set 'im up?"

"Aye," Chibs responded. "Feed Evan some fake intel – see if he bites."

"How?" Juice asked. "Who do we know to get to Evan?"

Clay batted his eyes down the table. "I believe one of us here has a…..repoire with his fiance'."

Tipping his head back, Tig shook it back and forth amid the chuckles around the table. "Really? You wanna bring that little stiff-ass into this?"

Jax flicked ashes off the tip into the tray. "Problem?"

"No."

"Then she's our only line to 'im," Bobby said.

"Wait," Juice spoke up. "You really think this chick's gonna agree to help set up her _boyfriend_?"

"We'll see," Jax said, then looked at Tig. "Call her," Jax told him. "See if she can take an extended lunch break and swing by."

Tig look appalled. "Why me? She's Amanda's friend - have her call."

Hap turned and glared down at him. "My wife has _no_ part in this."

"She trusted you enough to call with this," Clay told Tig. ""And she seems to have taken some kind of a shine to ya."

"A'ight, a'ight!" Tig's voice sliced through the amusement at his expense. "I'll call the bitch." He slid his chair back and stood up, eyeing Jax. "Uh…..we done?"

Picking up the end of the gavel, Jax twirled it in his fingers as he grinned at Tig, toying with the man as long as he could before slamming it down.

**~A~**

"Where were you last night?"

An awkward silence passed between Daisy and Evan within the few minutes he was in the office to gather what he needed before heading out. "Met the guys for a few then headed home."

"The…_guys_?" The only friends Evan seemed to ever mention were long distance ones he went to college with – before he dropped out. Everyone else was either a business associate or long-term acquaintances. He didn't seem to have any _real_ friends. Then again, who was she to question – having only one herself. But still, her friendship with Amanda was of a pure, personal nature whereas Evan's social life always seemed to revolve around business.

"Yeah…..the foreman at Evergreen Woods. Few of his guys."

She rested her case.

"Evan, don't you have any non-work friends?"

"Where'd _that_ come from?" he sharply asked.

After being engaged for nearly five months, that just came out of her mouth. But it wasn't so much a curiosity, but more to gage his reaction. And she wasn't disappointed. "It's just…it seems as if everyone you hang out with is always related to business. Whenever you go out it's to network, or make connections, or….."

"Why is this a problem, Daisy?" The tone of his voice was almost…..chilling.

"I didn't say it was. I was just…..curious."

He quickly gathered his things and fastened his sport-coat. "Look, all my friends from college I lost contact with. And I've changed jobs three times in the last five years – each one requiring a move so it's hard to maintain friendships. I need to stay up on what's going on in the construction industry so I can keep Elliott in the loop while he's busy being mayor."

It was a reasonable explanation that she suddenly felt silly about questioning. But the link she found between these short-stinted jobs he previously held and the rash of car thefts which found their way into the area didn't put her mind at ease. Tig said he'd 'look into it' – whatever that meant. Even the thought of him as she stood in her fiance's presence filled her with guilt and if it wasn't for the two-carat sparkler on her left hand acting like some form of kryptonite last night, she'd have a _lot _more to be guilty about this morning

"So….what about a wedding party?" Clearly Evan on his way out the door wasn't the appropriate time to bring up wedding plans.

"I don't know," he shrugged, checking the display on his phone. "You only got one friend, right? Maybe I can ask my cousin to stand up for me. We got time to figure that out. Gotta run."

He leaned in to give her a quick and hasty kiss, but Daisy closed her eyes and imagined being pushed up against the copy machine and manhandled. The cool air on her lips combined with the shutting door left her only with that fantasy – until her ringing cell jolted her out of it.

Rummaging through her tote, she pulled it out and looked at the screen – the displayed number causing her insides to twist. "Hello?"

"_Tell Oswald you need a long lunch – be here around twelve thirty."_

No 'hello', 'hi Daisy', 'can you', 'will you', or even 'please'. "Tig?" Of course it was him.

"_Who else would be callin' ya from this number?"_

"Yes. Okay. Be,_ where_?"

"_Clubhouse."_

_No. No, no, no_, she groaned to herself. "For what?"

"_About you-know-who."_

He was cryptic, curt and rude. "Why do I have to come to the club….?"

"_Daze?"_

"What?"

"_Don't ask questions and just be here, a'ight_?"

She gritted her teeth at his inconsiderate audacity. As a woman who prided herself upon being in control of her circumstances and taking care of things herself, being called close to mid-day and ordered to be somewhere – no questions asked – was not part of her repertoire. She immediately wondered if Amanda put up with this kind of behavior from her husband. If she did, she didn't seem as if she minded. "Okay. So….what did you find. Was it bad?"

"_What part of don't ask questions don't you understand? You'll find out when you get here. Don't be late."_

A 'click' not prefaced with a 'goodbye' hummed in Daisy's ear. She pulled the phone away and just stared at it – unable to fathom how she was spoken to. But judging the source, she wasn't surprised. And though she wasn't used to this sort of treatment, somewhere deep down inside of her structured self that organized every facet of her life, there was something kind of liberating about having choices made for you – even if it was when and where to spend your lunch hour.

Even if it was at a biker clubhouse. Even if she had no idea what she was in for. Even if she put on a brave face while, behind the grand illusion of her poised calmness, she was scared as hell.

**~A~**

"Knock, knock."

Pushing eyeglasses down her nose, Gemma peered at Amanda who appeared in the office doorway. "What'cha doing here, darlin'?"

"Had to run errands – bank, post office, drugstore. Thought I'd stop by and bring you what I promised." With that, she procured a ziploc bag from her purse filled with something dark and obviously chocolate. "Hap confiscated the rest of the fudge yesterday, so I brought these little ganache truffles I had left over."

"You're taking these chocolate cravings to a whole new level," Gemma quipped.

Amanda shook her head. "I'm done. Moving onto something else."

"Pickles and ice cream?"

"Mac and cheese."

"Great," Gemma drawled. "Go from giving that baby diabetes to clogging its little arteries."

Amanda grinned and rubbed her tummy. "Using low fat cheese and whole wheat pasta."

"Oh…..yum," Gemma disgustedly replied. "So…..when's your next doctor's appointment?"

The expectant mother's smile grew wider. "Next week. Having_ the_ ultrasound. We're not telling anyone. Gonna keep it to ourselves."

Gemma popped a truffle in her mouth. "When you say _anyone_, you mean the guys – right?"

Amanda shook her head. "Nope. _No one_." She paused a bit then added, "Not even you."

Gemma threw the bag of truffles down. "Are you shitting me?"

"Don't you want to be surprised."

"Fuck surprises," Gemma huffed. "How the hell am I gonna know what colors to buy?"

"Gender neutral colors are fine."

Gemma let out a snort. "Yeah – fine if you're having a hermaphrodite. Just…..tell me. I'll keep quiet."

Amanda adamantly shook her head. "Sorry."

The former queen leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs – looking none too pleased. "Bet you're gonna tell your little friend, I suppose?"

Folding her arms, Amanda looked down at her. "You really don't like Daisy do you?"

"I don't trust outsiders – period."

"Oh, I know," Amanda told her. "Remember the hard time you gave me? Accosting me in the grocery store, accused me of 'sympathy stalking' Hap?"

Gemma snorted. "Yeah, well…you grew on me. Slowly."

"And Daisy grew on me after a rough start," Amanda countered until the sight of a pale, blue Jag pulling into the parking lot caught her eye. "Huh? Speak of the devil?"

"The stiff ass?" Gemma asked.

Amanda threw her a look before walking out and up to her friend. "Daisy? What're you doing here?"

Truth be told, Daisy looked like she was heading for the firing squad. "Um….Amanda, I…I can't….."

"A!"

Only one person resounded a single letter of the alphabet with such fierceness. Amanda turned to face her husband walking towards them. He put his arm around her then eyed Daisy – nodding towards the clubhouse. "Head on inside."

Daisy did as told, leaving Amanda bewildered. "Hap…..what's going on? Why's she here?"

"Cant believe I'm gonna say this, but it's club business."

Amanda's jaw dropped. "What? _Daisy?_ You _kidding_?"

"Can't get into it – talk about it tonight."

She shook her head. "It has to do with Evan, doesn't it?"

His hand found the back of her head as those eyes found hers. "Tonight," he repeated.

She sighed heavily. "You know, the one thing I like most about Daisy is that she_ isn't_ involved with…._this," _she waved her hand around the parking lot. "Keeps me balanced. Just….whatever it is, go easy on her – _especially_ Tig."

He gave her another kiss – this one a bit uncharacteristic of him as it was soft and sweet on her lips. "Stop worryin', A? She's a big girl. Can handle her own shit. Tig ain't gonna ruin her."

_Too late for that_, Amanda thought.

**~A~**

Daisy paused in the doorway, her eyes on the expectant couple in the parking lot. She didn't get it – couldn't understand it, these…..men. On the outside they appeared fearsome, hard and impenetrable to any outside force. But watching the loving exchange between her friend and her husband who was one of these men, it just baffled Daisy. Was it possible for them to flip on a switch to go from one demeanor to the other? Was that leather vest they wore similar to her designer clothing – some outward façade which didn't give way to who they truly were inside? Did Tig suffer from that affliction?

"Hey!"

Her head jerked at the voice attached to the person in question – stance confident and a face that looked none-too-pleased to see her, even though he was the one who called. "Hi."

He pointed to a chair around a small, round table. "Sit down. Wait."

Cavemen strung more words together in a sentence, but she was way out of her element here and did as she was told. Happy came back in and eyed her before he did Tig. "Where's Jax?"

Tig nodded towards a room with large double doors cracked open. "In there – with Bobby."

"I'll let 'im know she's here," Happy said, then looked at Daisy. "Hey?"

Daisy wondered if they thought everyone's name was 'hey'. "Yes?"

"Chill."

Again, these men seemed to have a diversion for complete sentences, but that word calmed her a bit. She didn't know her friend's husband that well – and wasn't sure if she wanted to – but that charge coming from him was like it was coming from Amanda as well. She probably wondered why Daisy was here and, in some way, was trying to look out for her by conveying through her husband for Daisy to relax.

She did as she was told and crossed her legs – flared, khaki –green dress pants with black, patent pumps on the end. Looking up, she saw Tig studying her, looking disgusted for some reason. "What?"

A door creaked open and a short, portly man with wiry gray hair walked out, causing Tig to move towards the bar. "Nothin'. Just listen very carefully to what you're gonna be told, a'ight?"

Before she could answer, the gray-haired man offered her a warm smile which crinkled his eyes almost shut. "Get ya anything to drink, darlin'?"

"Um…..tea, if it's not too much trouble."

"Coffee or booze," Tig stated from the bar.

"Nevermind," she said. "I'm fine."

The door to that room creaked again and out walked Jax, followed by Happy. Daisy didn't see any of the other men and figured it would just be the four of them strategically placed at four points around her – unlike the last time when they were all practically surrounding her. "Daisy?"

"Yes," she told the young, blonde president.

Pulling up a chair, he turned it around and sat facing her. "Thanks for comin' down on short notice. Know why you're here?"

Her eyes quickly glanced at Tig who was intent on staring at the floor with indifference. "Tig didn't say, but, I think it has to do with Evan."

Jax nodded. "That's right."

"Is he the one stealing those cars?"

"Not directly, but he may be tipping off the ones who are. But we need proof – which we need your help getting."

Daisy felt her heart sink as her fingers twisted the diamond on her left hand. This man, this president, this…..club wanted her to help them pin these luxury car thefts on the man who gave her that ring. The man who was going to meet her at the other end of the aisle at the end of the summer.

The man whom she caught in a string of lies.

For several moments she thought, not even deigning to look at Tig as he was most likely doing everything he could to disassociate himself with her. So she made the mistake of looking up at Happy, but the expression on his face just made that sunken heart of hers race. It was the face of a man who dared her to deny his president's request. But that man was also married to her best friend – her only friend. Doing a favor for the club would be like doing it for her. "What do you need me to do?"

Jax looked relieved at her cooperation. "Need you feed some information on the location of the type of vehicle this crew might take. See if Evan looks interested – maybe excuses himself to make a phone call, anything like that. We'll tell ya exactly what to say – no more, no less."

Daisy used that well-dressed exterior of hers as a coat of armor – doing her best not to let what was being asked of her show on her face. "Okay. But….can I ask just one thing?"

"Shoot?"

"If it does turn out that Evan's in on this…..what'll happen to him?"

Jax looked at his men, whose faces gave away nothing, then back to her. "What do you think _should_ happen to him?"

It was a no-brainer. "He should be punished…I suppose."

"You suppose?"

Wrong thing to say. She was letting her emotion get in the way, not to mention possible humiliation. She was engaged to marry a man who could be an instrumental factor in a car theft ring. If he got caught, arrested and convicted, it would make the papers. What would his parents do? What would _her_ parents _think_? That she made yet another poor choice, although this one really disguised it well behind a half-baked college education, business savvy and pedigree background of his own.

"No," she said. "I don't." For that she was sure about, but something else puzzled her. "Jax…..can I ask you something else?"

"Shit," Tig murmured behind her. She wanted to turn to look at him, but knew it would be fruitless. He was obviously annoyed with her speaking up, but she was called down here at the last minute and she complied. Least she could do was be allowed to ask a question or two to which they could flatly refuse to answer.

"Go ahead."

"Why are you trying to catch him? I mean, shouldn't the police be handling this?"

As soon as the words left Daisy's mouth she knew she asked too much. The eyes of the men flitted back and forth amongst each other and from what little Amanda was able to share with her, Daisy wasn't stupid enough to discern body language. It was obvious the club had some sort of involvement. And remembering how the police were _not_ called when Amanda got attacked told Daisy that the club wants little association with law enforcement.

Jax kept his cool and grinned charmingly. "This gonna be a problem, Daisy?"

Knowing Tig was probably burning holes in the back of her head, she lowered her eyes and shook hers. "No, it won't."

"You'll do it?"

"I will."

"Now we gotta come up with a believable story," Bobby said. "What kind of car, location, etc. we can feed."

"Need to do it soon," Happy added. "Let 'im know the car will only be at the bogus location until maybe…. Sunday. This way we have a window of time for this crew to show up."

"Good point," Jax said. "Wanna lock it down to within a week. Just need a when and a where."

Daisy tried not to pay attention to the conversation going on in front of her, but something popped up in her head that may be a possibility. The trick was bringing it up after asking her question-quota. "Jax….excuse me?"

A frustrated breath blew out behind her as she immediately felt Tig's presence. "C'mon, doll. Time to go."

Finally making eye contact, she caught the annoyance over her presence within his clubhouse that he'd been channeling behind her. But for some reason, she knew it was just a 'game face' he put on in front of the other guys. They asked her down here, asked her to help and now she had something to possibly offer. "I have an idea."

Before Tig could escort her out, Jax cut in. "What?"

She spoke slowly and carefully. "I know of a place with a car already in it."

Bobby shared a look with Jax as Happy remained behind – his eyes trained right on Daisy. "Where?"

"Mister Oswald bought his wife a new car. Was supposed to give it to her for Christmas, but because he was having it customized, it didn't arrive until over a week ago. He's now waiting until Valentine's Day to give it to her. His brother and wife are away so he's storing the car in their garage."

Jax looked impressed. "His brother live nearby?"

"Yes."

"What kinda car?" Tig finally decided to join in the conversation since she had something worth adding.

"It's a two thousand thirteen Persian blue Cadillac convertible."

Bobby chuckled next to Jax. "That's specific enough. And a Caddy is certainly luxurious."

"We'll need to run it pass Oswald – make sure it's okay," Jax told him before looking at Daisy. "Evan know about this car bein' there?"

She shook her head. "No. Nothing."

"And," Jax walked over to her, "he _never_ finds out. _Any_ of this. Do I make myself clear?"

Daisy didn't think the handsome young blonde man could send a chill up her spine, but he just did. "I won't say a word to anyone about this."

"That's all I need to hear. Go on – get back to work. We'll be in touch with the details."

Standing up, Daisy clutched the handles of her tote as the three men in front of her disbursed while the one behind her remained right where he was. "See yourself out."

For the second time today, she made eye contact with him. "I think I know the way."

Scanning the clubhouse to make sure they were alone, he got up close to her. "There you go with that attitude."

"Must be the company showing up at my house unexpected at night."

"You're the one who called, doll-face."

"But I hung up after the first ring. I didn't tell you to come over."

His lips grazed her ear. "But you're glad I did."

A tingle went up her spine. His closeness, what he represented, the danger, what she was just asked to do saturated her senses. As much as he annoyed her, the verbal banter was like some sick foreplay. "I'm _glad_ you left when you did," she bravely shot back at him.

"Yeah," he drawled. "Afraid you'd make another _mistake_ again?"

She slowly backed away from him and headed for the door. "Yes. Exactly. Another mistake. A big, huge _mistake_," she punctuated as she turned to leave, but not before tossing one more gem over her shoulder. "One I probably now _wouldn't _have regretted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Without further adieu...**

**~/~**

**Chapter 11**

**Next Evening**

**Friday 1/18/13**

Every detail for the evening was selected with care. Deep green Shoshanna dress, black velvet ankle strapped stilletos, dainty pearl and sterling earrings, shimmery/smokey makeup and a seductive drizzle of L'air Du Temps between her breasts. Examining the finished product in a full length mirror, Daisy had to put humility aside. She looked stunning if she didn't say so herself. The dress, a little shorter than she normally wore, was worth the three hundred bucks she dropped on it and, combined with the shoes, made her legs look as if they reached her neck. She needed full attention from Evan and her outfit and accessories no doubt would fulfill that.

Not that experienced in the coyness department, she had placed a call to Evan yesterday afternoon upon her return from the clubhouse. She stammered her way through breathlessly inviting him to a 'special' dinner the following evening at a popular French-American bistro in Stockton. And since Evan would be finishing up late on a job site ten miles away, he agreed to meet her there for eight p.m. reservations she made as soon as he accepted. She chose the restaurant carefully as it was upscale enough to host the kind of clientele he chose to rub elbows with, though with a soft ambiance to lend an air of romance.

A drawstring evening bag carried her cell phone, keys, license, credit card and trusty compact as she got behind the wheel of her Jag. Her heart pounded the entire half hour ride as not even soothing classical music on Sirius calmed her nerves. A lot rode on the outcome of the evening and if that wasn't enough pressure, and entire motorcycle club was counting on her to come through. Nowhere in the annals of her journey from Greenwich, Connecticut to Berkley College to being the administrative right hand to the town's biggest developer slash interim mayor did Daisy ever think she'd find herself being a go-between for a bunch of criminals. And that's exactly what they were. The mug shots displayed with pride within the clubhouse was a testament to the fact that she wasn't dealing with a bunch of frat boys.

Pulling into Le Virage at seven forty five pm, Daisy parked and made her way inside – surprised to see Evan already there waiting for her. "Whoa, babe – you look gorgeous."

Pleased she'd gotten his attention she was confident she'd have it the rest of the night. "Thanks. Is our table ready?"

"Not yet. C'mon, let's sit in the lounge and have a drink."

Fifteen minutes later, Evan nursed a gin and tonic while Daisy sipped a boujie cosmopolitan. Outside, she played the attentive, seductive girlfriend, but inside she was tense. Earlier today, Jax and Happy swung by the farm to talk to Oswald about the plan to use his wife's new car as bait, but not the fact Evan was a suspect. Confident Evan wasn't around, Jax then came into the office and carefully gave Daisy the story to convey. Though she listened intently, the one thing she noticed was that Tig didn't accompany them this trip.

Fine. Whatever. But it only made that final remark to him before leaving the clubhouse the day before all the more cringe-worthy. As soon as she got in her car and pulled out to where she knew no one could see her, she began to chew herself out for such an off-the-cuff remark. She was only trying to one-up him in the battle-of-the-words department, but instead she blurted out something that someone like him would want her to back up.

And though Evan was a possible suspect, nothing was proven yet. Even with all her suspicions about him and his financial troubles, if that was the worst of it then she could deal. He proposed, she accepted and had absolutely no reason not to go through with marrying him unless he proved to be some secret thief.

"So," Evan broke through her thoughts. "What's the special occasion?"

This little-used coyness was coming in handy as Daisy slowly crossed her legs, watching Evan's appreciative eyes take in the sexy move. "Nothing special. We just don't see each other that much outside of work. We _are _getting married, after all."

Evan grinned, then downed the rest of his drink before ordering another. "Yeah. I know. Guess I take being a work-a-holic too seriously." He looked around the restaurant, taking in its softly lit atmosphere. "If it's good here we can come back for Valentine's Day if you'd like."

There it was. The opening she was looking for without looking too conspicuous. Was it too soon to bring it up? "Oh, speaking of Valentine's Day, you'll never guess what Mister Oswald got his wife."

"Yeah? What?"

_Carefully, Daisy_, she told herself. _Remember what Jax told you._ "Brand new Cadillac convertible. Completely customized. Right down to the Persian Blue paint job."

"Huh," Evan replied, accepting a second drink from the bartender. "A Caddy?"

"Yeah. He was going to give it to her for Christmas, but it wasn't ready in time." _Remember to alter the story, Daisy_, she reminded herself. "He was going to hold off and give it to her for Valentine's Day, but he can't store it that long."

"He's not keeping it at the farm?"

She shook her head. "No. Guess because of the break-in's. He's keeping it at his brother's place while they're away in Colorado, but they're coming home next week. So…Mister Oswald is getting the car out of his brother's garage Monday morning and giving it to his wife that night." Feeling like she delivered a successful lie, Daisy gulped the rest of her cosmopolitan then asked for another. While munching on the cherry, she criss-crossed her legs again. "Isn't that romantic?"

And like day into night, Evan's face darkened a bit. "Trying to tell me something, babe?"

She was too confused by his comment to ask him not to call her that. "Excuse me?"

He dug his fingers in his eyes – rubbing them with frustration. "I mean, I hope you don't expect me to keep up with the Oswald's of the world."

"Evan….what do you mean?"

Putting his drink down, he took a deep breath and let it out. "I mean, don't expect me to be showering you with cars and jewelry."

For the moment, her means to keep Evan interested were on hold. Now she was truly pissed. "Where did_ that_ come from?"

"Daisy, look…we both come from well off families and I'm sure you were used to getting what you wanted. Don't expect me to keep you in some kind of lifestyle you've been accustomed to."

She went from being pissed to super pissed. "Are you_ kidding_ me? I haven't gotten anything from my parents since finishing college. Every piece of clothing I own I bought with _my_ own money and they're either good looking knockoffs or I got them dirt cheap. I'm not expecting you to keep me in some kind of lap of luxury."

"Good, because I can't. Look, babe….there's…..there's something I need to tell you."

Oh God, was he going to confess….."What?"

"I've got some debt piled up which I'm trying to get out of."

So he finally was confessing. Suddenly, she felt guilty for thinking he was hiding this behind her back. He just didn't know how to tell her. And here she was tossing him bait to see if he's some car thief. "It's okay, Evan. I know all about it."

His face practically twisted. "What do you mean you_ know_? _How?"_

Maybe she shouldn't have said anything, but it was too late now. "Christmas night at dinner. I was coming back from the ladies room and I….kind of overheard the conversation between you and your dad."

He slid the stood back and stood up. "You….._what_? You…eavesdropped? You knew all this time?"

"Evan, relax?"

"How could you, Daisy?" He was absolutely livid and on the verge of causing a scene.

"I…..I didn't mean to," she stammered.

"How much did you hear?"

"Evan, please. Let's not…."

"How much did you hear?" He enunciated each word.

How did this evening wind up going dreadfully wrong? "Something about a student loan…two credit cards…"

"Shit," he muttered. "I can't believe this."

"Evan, it's okay. I don't care. The point is you told me. You'll pay it off."

"No," he practically shouted. "The _point _is, I can't _trust_ you."

_What?_ What the hell did he just say? "I can't believe this."

The hostess came over to let them know their table was ready. "Forget it," Evan told the hostess. "Change of plans."

As she walked away, Daisy stood up. "Evan….."

He threw some money down on the bar then grabbed his sport coat. "I've lost my appetite. Thanks for ruining this evening. I'm going home."

He left. He just up and walked out leaving Daisy there with a stunned look on her face. No, not stunned – angry. How _dare _he accuse her of being some sneaky eavesdropper when he just lied about his whereabouts at the job site a week ago? Maybe it was a pride thing – that she knew about his financial situation and the fact he couldn't shower her with luxurious things. That didn't matter a wit to her. Hell, if it did she would've found a way to get back into her parent's good graces and go crawling back to the good life in Greenwich.

She sat at the bar dumbfounded as she finished her drink. At least she was able to relay the Caddy information, but that seemed to be lost in the hot mess of their argument. And it was her fault, as usual. Her fault she fell in with the wrong guy in college. Her fault she starred in those racy cable movies to pay her tuition after her parents cut her off. Her fault that she had such anal tendencies that shied her away from having a relationship. And now it was her fault that the one relationship she finally was able to have may be on the verge of falling apart. She felt like a failure. She felt helpless.

She felt like crying.

Draining her cosmopolitan, she grabbed her velvet evening bag, pulled out her car keys and left the restaurant. Thank goodness they had their own cars as Evan was so fuming mad that he'd probably leave her there to walk home. And that was the last place she wanted to go as she started her Jag and pulled out onto the road. She wasn't familiar with the area, but as soon as she got on the main road, she drove – cranking the classical music as loud as she could stand. She refused to cry as it would only prove Evan was right about her being in the wrong. And she wasn't. Overhearing a conversation wasn't enough for him to fly off the handle and walk out on dinner. Something else was up. Something must've happened. But he seemed fine when he got there. Maybe it was her. Maybe she's not capable of nurturing a decent relationship. Maybe she's destined to pay for the few poor choices she'd made over time as her penance.

A mascara-streaked face and teardrop stains on her taffeta-blend dress kept Daisy from giving into that strong female emotion as she focused on the road – taking a turn down a better lit one in an effort to get back to the highway entrance. But the streetlights began to give way as the area before her got darker and darker. Doing a U-turn, she retraced her path and turned back onto what she thought was the main road only to find herself driving on gravel and dirt – the only light coming from small, mobile-style homes set way back off the road as well as the moonlight.

Her older-model Jag didn't have OnStar nor did she have a GPS. She couldn't even see a street name if she called someone – that was_ if_ she had cell service! "Dammit!" she cursed out loud, before a bit of panic set in. It would be very easy to blame Evan for this rather than herself for not driving straight home. And a welcome sound came when her cell went off in her purse. She put aside her anger and hoped it was Evan calling to apologize profusely and come rescue her from the middle of Deliverance-ville. Instead, it was the familiarity of another number which took her by surprise. "Hello?"

"_Just answer yes or no, doll – you tell 'im yet_?"

So, Tig was giving her a mid-way point call to check in. That's all he was concerned about – the plan, not her. "Yes," she replied.

"_Good. Check in later, tell me how he reacted_."

"I can tell you now, Tig," she sharply replied. "I'm alone. In my car. In the middle of nowhere." Oh God, he was the last person she wanted to experience her oncoming melt-down.

"_What? Where the fuck are you_?"

He was probably her only hope of making it back to civilization. "I'm not sure. If I knew I wouldn't be lost."

"_Daze…what happened?"_

Did she really want to give him more fodder to ridicule over? But her safety won over her pride. "We never had dinner. We didn't even make it past drinks. We got into an argument and he up and left. I met him here so I had my car and was just driving around to calm down, but I must've taken a wrong turn and now I don't know where I am."

"_But you fed him the story, right?"_

"Yes!" she practically yelled back. She was subject to wild animals jumping out the dark and attacking her car and all he cared about was one thing.

"_A'ight, calm down. Just…..put the phone on speaker."_ She did as told and waited_. "Now….what do you see around you?"_ She explained the area, a wooden sign she was barely able to make out on a split-rail gate, the mobile houses, the gravel road_. "K. I know where you are. I'm gonna lead ya back. Just listen and drive."_

That Daisy did – turn by turn she found herself almost going deeper into darkness and away from what she thought was the main road until she came upon a long stretch of dimly lit pavement in front of her. "Okay," she said. "At least I'm on a street with some light."

"_Continue on down_," Tig said on the line. _"It's a little desolate, but soon you'll see a….."_

"Package store?" she answered for him.

"_Yeah. Next to it is a small house. Pull in."_

"What?"

"_Do it, Daze."_

Frustrated, tired, hungry and in no mood to fight with anyone else tonight, she did as he said – pulling her Jag up the dirt driveway on the side of the house. And that's when her headlights beamed right on the motorcycle parked in front of her. She sat in her car, wondering where he led her to until her peripheral vision saw someone walk out of the front door. Turning, she saw Tig leaning in the doorway looking at her. "Gonna sit there all night, doll?"

This was madness. This was crazy. Shit, this was his house! She shouldn't be here. She needed to go home, get out of her evening wear, into a hot bath then into her mint-green robe. Her parting words to Tig yesterday afternoon plus the fight her and Evan just had told her it would equal nothing but disaster – even as she opened the door and stepped out.

She stood by her car for a few moments, hoping maybe he'd walk over to her and comfort her or something. But he just continued to lean inside the door, watching her, waiting for _her _to come to _him_. It was a battle she would not win as events of the evening finally caught up to her – causing her to give into that emotion she fought all night. Softly she cried as she finally relented and walked over. He didn't budge an inch until she was right in front of him. Taking a deep breath, she made eye contact only to see him slowly inspect her long, tall five foot nine inch frame in that short, green dress and wicked, velvet black heels. "That douche walked out on all this?" he asked.

Before Daisy could begin to cry again, he moved – this time to take a fistful of hair in one hand and pull her in, while his other hand slid over the planes of her slender body through the smooth material of her dress. His mouth came down on hers as he backed them both inside the house, using his foot to shut the door. His hands moved down her hips and over to palm that tight, little ass until they slid to the hem of her dress before his fingers came into contact with her bare thighs. She made some pleading sound in his mouth and tightened her grip around his neck before her pulled her left arm down.

"Take it off," he ordered.

She stared at him in a breathless haze. "Huh?"

"The ring. Take it off. Now."

Not wanting to waste another minute, she pulled the two-carat diamond off, slid it in the opening of her drawstring purse, then tossed it in the corner of the couch. With a victorious look, Tig grabbed her behind one knee and hoisted her up, allowing her to wrap those gloriously long legs around him. She didn't take in her surroundings, didn't stop to peruse his furniture, décor or even what was playing on the television behind them. She was hurriedly carried out of the living room, her mouth never leaving his until she found herself plopped down on a bed.

From that angle, Daisy looked up at him – blue jeans, black studded belt, dark blue buttoned shirt which rivaled a pair of eyes that promised unspeakable things. And those very same eyes just devoured her in her position – on her back, dress hitched up high enough to reveal a pair of champagne-colored lace panties. There were no words spoken between them – now wasn't a time to talk as she had no idea what to say and was too embarrassed by her behavior to even speak. Instead, she just moved – sliding herself back onto the bed as her arms went behind her to work the zipper of her dress. Tig finished by pulling it down all the way before tugging it off her.

Next it was her turn – her sand-colored nails working his belt as she struggled to catch her breath. This is what she craved. To desire and be desired with such a burning need for it to be quenched – even if it was with a felon biker who did nothing but mock and make fun of her since the moment they met. But Daisy chalked it up to her track record of poor choices and decided not to fight it anymore.

Belt and jeans undone, Tig pulled his buttoned shirt over his head as Daisy's eyes flashed to a crazy tattoo near his ribs which looked pretty fresh. He got on the bed, his knees on either side of her, trapping her like an animal. "Sure this is what you want?"

She leaned back and stretched her long body like a feline in answer before she removed her bra, a move which caused some unearthly sound to escape Tig's mouth. Rough hands found her narrow torso before jerking her forward as his mouth latched onto one of her breasts – sucking her nipple to the point of pain and the peak of pleasure. Her scream was the first sound out of her mouth as she writhed against him, wanting more of the agony but not knowing how to get it.

Fortunately, he did as he flipped her over and tugged her panties down. Although her skin burned, Daisy felt riddled with gooseflesh before those worn hands of his ran over her naked backside from her shoulders down to her legs, then back up to her ass. His hands kneaded the mound of firm flesh before slipping them between her thighs. "Guess you really do want this," he taunted as he no doubtedly felt just how bad she really did.

A bit of cool air washed over her as she heard him sit up, followed by the sounds of a wrapper being opened. Her fingers grabbed the bedding under her as she pushed her bottom up in want. Tig responded by smacking it hard before pulling her slightly back onto her knees. "If I remember right, you like it like this," he again taunted her before she felt him begin to push in. Slowly…slowly…slowly, then one final push until Daisy found herself that naïve nineteen year old simulating these moves to be broadcast over late night cable. But this was no simulation – this was the real deal and so was every solid inch of him inside her.

One….two…three, the thrusts were timed just right as she pushed back to meet them. Still, no words passed – only sounds of pleasure and grunts of domination. His hand again found her hair, causing her head to jerk back as his moves became frantic. This is what she craved. This is what cost her relationship with her parents. This is the side of her she fought for years. This was the epitome of all those good girl/bad boy clichés. And as that luscious feeling built up deep down inside, she couldn't give a flying fuck about any of it.

"_Shit, doll,"_ Tig seethed as his pelvis pounded against her two final times_. "Shit!"_

She gasped, letting a sound of satisfied relief escape her before her insides felt like they exploded. Her fingers were still curled around the sheets to keep her from collapsing. A light sheen of sweat covered her skin as her hair was a tangled mess. And she was sure her mascara was smudged.

Feeling him leave her, she brought her knees in and moved to her side – her curtain of chocolate-cherry hair covering most her nakedness as Tig planted himself next to her. Pulling some of her hair aside, he brought his lips to her ear. "Told ya you shoulda re-thought your engagement."


	12. Chapter 12

**Should be one more after this then another to tie everything up. Your feedback on this story has been great and I appreciate all who are reading and following. Finishing this up has proven to be a bit difficult, so your encouragement has helped.**

**~/~**

**Chapter 12**

There was a warmth within the early morning chill covering the sheets which certainly weren't a high thread count. Even prior to waking, Daisy could feel it. But when she pried her mascara-caked lashes open, the reality of her situation kept her from wanting to stay put and bury herself beneath a stiff comforter which rivaled the mediocre quality of the sheets. Amazing, she thought, that she could morph right back into a high-maintenance stiff ass after said ass, as well as the rest of her, was tossed around like a sex doll several times last night.

'_Oh God_,' she mumbled, and someone next to her replied with an equally, unintelligible sound. Or….was it _something_? Slipping her arm out from under the covers, she carefully reached over, expecting to come into contact with a human form. Instead, she got a handful of fur.

Sucking in her breath, Daisy quickly sat up although the large German shepard laying next to her barely moved. The dog just kept its eyes on her as its low growl reverberated. Where the heck did it come from? She didn't remember seeing it when she came in last night – then again everything moved so fast last night she didn't remember seeing much of anything. Slowly, she got out of bed – each hand strategically covering her upper and lower halves as if the dog could sense she was naked. "Nice doggie," she said in a soothing voice as she eyed her crumpled, three hundred dollar dress on the floor. The shepard didn't follow her with its eyes – just continued to verbally voice its displeasure over her presence.

Snatching her dress and underwear off the floor, Daisy quickly put them on as she stared at the dog from behind – wondering where Tig was. Although, waking up next to the dog was probably the lesser of the two evils – not to mention less awkward. She then found one velvet shoe…..then another before tip-toeing out of the room and dashing to the adjacent bathroom. Her drawstring evening bag was probably still where she tossed it on the couch, so she had to make do with what was in front of her. And a man like Tig didn't exactly have a bathroom designed for décor, but just plain masculine convenience. Brown floor mat, hotel-white towel, roll of toilet paper on the edge of the tub, a shrunken bar of Dial soap and toothbrush and toothpaste tossed in a picnic-wear style cup. Basic, no-nonsense 'man stuff'.

She went to open the medicine cabinet, then decided against it – not wanting to see what might be lurking inside. Instead, she unraveled some toilet paper and ran it under the water. With gentle care, she removed her raccoon eyes as best she could. She then squeezed some toothpaste on her finger, put it in her mouth then cupped her hands under the stream to drink from it. With the water and toothpaste, she formed a mouthwash and gargled. Her hair was another story as her nice, flat-ironed-to-a-glossy-finish from the night before was now an unruly, wavy mess.

Fluffing it as best she could, she grabbed her shoes then headed out – knowing she would have to make what was known as the 'walk of shame'. She decided to do it barefoot, as not to announce her presence as she rounded the corner to find it empty and quiet. Until she looked past it.

Leaning in the open front doorway, Tig smoked a cigarette with one hand and held a cup of coffee in the other. His back was to her, allowing Daisy to search for her evening bag in peace. The tip-tap of paws behind her signaled the dog's entrance as the old shepard gingerly walked past her and towards the front – letting out a soft 'woof', as if alerting Tig she was up.

**~A~**

Tossing the stub of his smoke in the coffee can full of sand Toby had considerately placed outside the front of the house, Tig heard the dog's muffled bark and turned – only to find Daisy looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Keeping an unaffected face, he watched her look away as she took a seat on the ottoman to put on her shoes. The moves were graceful and feminine, first crossing one long leg over the other before switching. She knew he was watching and did her stiff-ass best not to acknowledge him. Slowly she stood back up – pushing the skirt of her dress down from where it inched up a bit too high. She could've pulled the damn thing down to her ankles, Tig thought. It still wouldn't have hidden those wicked stems. Fully dressed, evening bag in hand, she looked pretty much the same she did as when she showed up last night – other than the fact that she was now properly fucked.

"Coffee's done," he told her matter-of-fact. "Ain't got no tea."

"No thank you." It was a ladylike, polite response which was a complete opposite of how she acted last night. "I need to go."

Crouching down, Tig gently scratched Sasha's head, until the dog lowered to its side for full body attention. "Suit yourself."

"Is that your dog?" she asked.

"Belongs to the package store," he said, giving Sasha a full belly rub. "I watch her overnight."

"Did you send her in bed?"

"Nope." He gave her a sarcastic look. "Maybe she just likes you."

"She growled at me. Probably jealous of another female in your bed."

"Don't flatter yourself, doll," he said in an effort to put her in perspective. "You ain't the first."

With a death grip on her evening bag, she headed for the door while opening it – high heels clicking furiously against the wood floor. "_Asshole_," she muttered as he hand felt around inside her bag.

"What was that?"

She avoided eye contact as that damned invisible rod in her spine made its first appearance. "Move aside, please. I'd like to go home and take a nice, hot shower."

Tig didn't move an inch and neither did the dog from where they blocked the front door. If Daisy wanted to leave she'd have to climb over them. Part of him wanted to see her do that with those long legs and short dress, but he knew he didn't loosen her up _that_ much. "Don't like bein' dirty?"

Her eyes inspected him. "You may not have an aversion to wearing the same clothes all week, but I do. Now please move out of the way so I can go home."

He glared up at her. "Sure you told the douche everything last night?"

"Just the way Jax said," she impatiently replied, while her hand still searched the bottom of her bag.

"What'cha fight about?"

"None of your business." Her hand finally emerged from her evening bag. Instead of her car keys, she pulled out the diamond ring – hesitating to put it back on.

Tig let out a snort as he shook his head back and forth. "Guess it's time to turn back to a pumpkin."

Defiantly, she shoved it back on and looked down at him from where he still didn't budge. "Asshole." This time it was loud and clear.

He shot upright, causing the dog to do the same, though a bit slower. "Guess that attitude's a little turned up in the mornin', huh dollface?"

A sand-beige tipped nail found itself right in his face. "Don't you _dare_, Tig. From that first day I saw you done nothing but try to intimidate me and make me feel like…..like shit." She looked as if that sound of that word coming out of her mouth made her sick. "_You _brought me here last night, remember?"

The chick may have too much fire this early, but since he already had his coffee, cigarette and dog-time, Tig was a bit compliant. But that didn't mean little Miss Daisy McKay didn't deserve to be brought back down to morning-after reality. He took her by the wrist, lowering that warning finger from his face. "Didn't force ya to stay, did I Daze? Nah. Did that on your own. Walked right in here, took off that ring without a second thought and made another…._ mistake_."

Those hazel eyes began to water as she glared at him with a mixture of guilt and disgust. At him and at herself. "_I hate you_," she quietly whispered.

He let her arm go then backed away. "Nah. You just hate that I tell ya what you _need _to hear instead of _what_ ya wanna to hear."

"Really? And what is it that I _need_ to hear, Tig?"

He took her left hand and held it up so that two carat sparkler was all she could focus on. "That you gotta sort this shit out."

She tugged her hand away. "Why do you care?"

Her question put him at an awkward loss for words. He had no idea why he cared. The first day he saw her, all stiff, prim and haughty walking into Amanda's store, he decided to instantly dislike her. Moreso, dislike the type of person she represented – those who acted is if they were better than the world. And he never wasted an opportunity to dig at her, put her on the spot or make her as uncomfortable as hell whenever he ran into her.

But that was before all the change instituted in the club which he was now trying to incorporate into his life. And over time, Miss Daisy McKay was proving to be quite the opposite of what he perceived her to be. Yeah, she was still a stiff-ass, but she was also quite the fearless little spit-fire – evidenced by how she rattled Gemma's cage last week. He had no idea _why_ he cared. But for some twisted reason…..he did.

Not that he'd admit it.

"Hey," he shrugged with indifference, "you wanna commit to one man while landin' in another's bed, that's your deal." He held up two fingers. "Already done it twice, Daze. And the way you acted last night told me Evan ain't layin' the pipe right."

She took a step back, her mouth dropped open with the audacity of his statement. He had to love it, though – that she could get her priss on the morning after being twisted into three different positions the night before. "I did what the club asked, okay? Afterwards….here…..was just….."

"….you so much as say the word _mistake _and that little black bag of yours is gonna be her chew toy," he shot back, pointing to the dog.

She lowered her head embarrassedly. "No. It wasn't. Just…please, let me go home."

He never had a problem letting bitches leave in the morning. They were usually gone before he even opened his eyes. But he let this one stay – the night – in his bed – and was now doing his damndest to keep her from leaving – if only to have more fun with her. At least that's what he convinced himself.

He moved aside, snapping his fingers for Sasha to follow. "Go on. Go home, take a shower, drink tea, spend the weekend broodin' over the little douche – I _don't _care. You did your part for the club. All that matters. But the conditions still stand – you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut."

With an unobstructed doorway, Daisy just needed as she walked out with as much class as she could. Inside, Tig got a refill, lit another smoke then walked to the door in time to see the pale blue Jag pull out of the driveway and disappear. Taking a sip, then a drag, he looked over at the dog. "You're the only bitch who don't give me shit."

**~A~**

'**Call me'**

Healthy mac and cheese wasn't cutting it. Onto banana/walnut pancakes.

Amanda had just poured the batter onto the counter-top griddle when her iPhone _dinged _on the kitchen table. Retrieving it, she saw the text from Daisy. _'__**Call me.'**_ Happy filled her on Daisy's mission for the club and this little cry for help made Amanda wonder if everything went according to plan. Hearing the shower still going, she tapped in Daisy's cell as she plopped banana slices and walnuts into the bubbling batter**. **

"_Amanda….you leave for the store yet?"_Daisy's voice sounded desperate and frantic on the other end.

"I go in around one. Erin opens up on Saturday. Why? What's wrong?"

"_Everything! Everything's ….not right. I can't have that, Amanda. I'm borderline OCD. I'm structured. I'm routine. I plan my wardrobe a week in advance. I schedule things to the minute. I feel like I'm spinning out of control!"_

This wasn't Daisy on the other end. This was some alien life form who stole her perfectly, postured friend and assimilated her body. Even though Hap told her what was going on, Amanda was not to involve herself in it nor did he want her to talk to Daisy about it. The line in the sand had to be drawn between club business and friendship. "Whoa…Daisy, calm down," Amanda told her, carefully flipping the pancakes. " Are you okay? Where are you?"

"_Sorry,"_ Daisy huffed on the other end. _"I'm on my way home."_

"From where?" Amanda looked at the clock –it was almost nine thirty.

"_From where my life began to spin out of control,"_ Daisy sputtered out. _"I…I just need to you to help me calm down." _She then began to sob. _"I feel like everything's falling apart."_

Amanda did her best to juggle the phone and work the spatula to flip the cakes. Her friend's uncharacteristic tirade caused her unsuccessfully multi-task as she knocked over the rest of the sliced bananas – which Tank was more than happy to lap up in record time. "Tank! Those are the only bananas I have left!"

"_What?"_

"Sorry, Daisy…..listen. Hap's in the shower. He told me about what you were supposed to do last night. Just tell me this – did everything go okay?"

"_Yes,"_ Daisy replied with a sniff. "_Right up until Evan walked out on pre-dinner drinks."_

"He what?"

"_We got into a fight after I….you know….told him what I was supposed to. He admitted about his finances and I made the mistake of telling him how I overheard him and his dad on Christmas. He blew up at me, said he couldn't trust me and left."_

"He left you at the restaurant?"

"_No. I met him there. I had my own car. I…I left, I didn't want to go home, I drove around for a half hour, I got lost. Tig called to check in, he got me….un-lost…."_ Her voice trailed after that.

That trailing off told Amanda a lot. Too much. "Daisy?"

"_Yes?"_

"Just _where _are you driving back from now?" The silence on the other end pretty much Amanda's question. "Oh…..no," she quietly said. "Tell me you didn't…."

"_Amanda…..please. I know."_

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Briefly…..what happened?" She listened to Daisy's explanation of her night and morning. "Are you sure you're okay?"

" _Other than being a cheating slut….not really."_

"Alright, just….. calm down. Especially if you're still driving."

"_I'm pulling in my driveway right now. I didn't mean to call you like a spaz and upset you – especially in your condition."_

Amanda pressed a hand to her growing belly. "Don't worry. Listen, if you want to talk later, call me. I'll be at the store till five."

"_I think I'm going to just blockade myself inside all weekend. Maybe take Monday off."_

"Then how about I come by for lunch? I'll bring everything – like last time. By then you'll be calmer and we can talk, okay?"

"_I think so. Thank you. Again, I'm so sorry."_

"That's what friends are for," Amanda told her.

Daisy sniffed in what was left of her sobbing on the other end. _"Guess my life isn't falling apart as much as I thought. I'm so lucky to have you as a friend."_

Hanging up, Amanda put the phone down just as her husband entered the kitchen. "What's burnin'?"

"Shit, the pancakes!" Amanda spun around to find the four, flipped pancakes smoking on the griddle. Quickly she removed them to the plate. At least they weren't burnt on the other side. "I wound up spilling the rest of the bananas and this eighty pound garbage disposal inhaled them before they even hit the floor."

Hap went to pour some coffee as he eyed the dog who sat innocently in the corner licking his chops. "Just gimme those."

"I have more batter," she said, putting the plate and syrup in front of him. "I can make them with just walnuts."

"Nah. Gotta be at the club in twenty." He slathered the pancakes with syrup then cut into them. " Who was on the phone?"

Amanda knew she couldn't lie to him, nor was it the right thing to do. "Daisy."

Swallowing, he put his fork down and gave her a wary look. "What did she want?"

Amanda was silent as she went to make a cup of disgusting decaf. As soon as this baby was out she was going to have a cup of high test java in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Amanda."

"She was upset. Really upset. About….last night."

He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "What did she say?"

"Just that everything went according to plan. That wasn't what she was upset about. After she told Evan, they got into a fight about something and he left before they even had dinner. She had her own car, left, drove around a bit, got lost then …" She trailed off. It was best to keep the part about Tig out of the equation.

"Then what?"

"Nothing. She found her way back to the main road and went home. She's just needed to vent."

Polishing off his pancakes and coffee, he wiping his mouth, he got up and slid his cut off the back of the chair. Putting it on, he went over to Amanda and gave her a kiss. "She'll figure it out, A. Don't let her get you all wound up, a'ight?"

"Yeah."

"So, she said she told 'im the story?"

She nodded. "Didn't get into details."

He looked at the batter and griddle on the counter and pointed. "Make sure you eat. Call ya later." He then kissed her head and headed to the door, bending over to give Tank a rough head scratch before leaving.

The smell of burned pancakes made Amanda lose her craving, but the thought of eggs made her queasy. She poured more batter on the still-hot griddle – all the while worried about Daisy and whether or not she was cut out for all this drama. Relaying a fake story to her boyfriend and getting in a fight with him was recoverable. But turning into a polar opposite whenever she got within ten feet of Tig Trager could have some long term damage if she wasn't careful.

**~A~**

The four hour ride up and down Interstate Five was just what Tig needed. The crisp, mid-January day, long, stretches of blacktop, co-mingling scents of the road mixed in the breeze and the bright sun offering up just enough warmth to make the ride bearable.

A quick session at the table this morning coupled with a call to Derrell led to a ride south to meet him and The Horse to discuss the potential setup of this car theft crew. Once the details were discussed, they headed back north, splitting off once they crossed into Charming. Tig, along with Jax, Bobby and Happy headed towards Oswald's farm while the rest went back to the club. Pulling down the long, gravel driveway, the pungent manure mixed with freshly cut grass hit Tig like a smack in the face. It was just the kind of raw sensations he needed to wash the pretty, perfumed and very limber Daisy McKay out of his head.

"Elliott," Jax drawled out his name as he walked over.

The mayor pro-tem took the outlaw president's extended hand. "Hear you have some news?"

"Possible lead. Just wanna give ya a head up. Whoever this crew is thinks you're removin' the Caddy from its location Monday. So….if anything goes down it'll either be tonight or tomorrow."

Oswald looked a bit worried. "Jax…if anything happens….that's my brother's property."

"Relax, Elliot. We're gonna have that place covered like a blanket."

Thinking a bit, Oswald looked somewhat relieved. "Okay. If it's going to finally catch these guys."

Bobby spoke up. "There is another little matter."

"What?"

"Not so much this crew, but who we suspect may be the one tippin' 'em off," Jax answered.

Oswald waited for an answer which Happy supplied. "Your 'Boy-Monday-Through-Friday'."

"Evan?" Elliott sounded shocked. "Are you kidding me?"

"It's just a suspicion," Jax assured him.

"Solid one," Tig said from behind. "Seems he's got a penchant for workin' at the right place at the right time."

"Several of the thefts over the past two years occurred on constructions sites – all run by three of Evan's former employers," Bobby added.

Oswald processed the information. "A sub on my Evergreen Woods project just had his car taken not too long ago. A Beemer."

"Don't forget the break in here," Happy reminded him. "Whoever it was thought your Alpha was in that stall."

"Did Evan know it was in there?" Tig asked.

Oswald nodded. "Yes. He did." He paused a moment, running a hand over his head. "I don't believe it."

"Look," Jax said, "it ain't in stone. Right now, his resume and theft locations make him look suspicious. So….we fed 'im the story about the Caddy. He knows about it, knows where it is _and_ for how long. Let's see if anyone hits it."

"Whoa, wait," Oswald said. "You said you 'fed' Evan a story. How?"

The four bikers paused as they looked at each before Tig spoke up. "Only one person close to 'im."

Sudden realization caused Oswald's mouth to drop open. "_Daisy?_ You got _her _involved in this?"

"She's the one who discovered the connection," Bobby said.

"And she just magically came to you?"

"She's friends with my wife," Happy said.

"She was suspicious and didn't know what to do," Jax said. "When we saw the evidence and the connection, we asked her if she'd relay the bogus story to Evan. She did. Last night. So, now we're on alert. Which is why we're here. Just…be prepared."

Oswald still couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What if it isn't Evan? What if this crew decides the Caddy isn't worth it and doesn't show up over the next two days."

Jax shrugged. "Then we're back to square one. But we gotta rule this possibility out."

"Not a word to Evan about this," Bobby told him. "You don't know a thing."

"Story of my life with you boys."

**~A~**

**Two Nights Later**

**Sunday, 1/20/13**

Something about small town in NorCal had a sort of sereneness to it. Away from the busy, noisy behemoth known as Los Angeles, the last two nights east of Charming was like a calming elixir over The Steel Horse MC. Gentle, breezy days which gave way to eerily quiet nights painted greenish-black. Perfect. They'd hear every single sound which wasn't some nocturnal varmint skittering up a tree or through the surrounding wooded area.

But something which didn't sound like tiny, clawed feet crunched the ground. More like footsteps, which caused the five men who heard them to lock n' load.

"Oooooh, weee," a voice was quietly heard. "That is one pretty shade of blue."

Derrell knew whoever it was just peered through the garage window. This was it. This was them. They took whatever bait the Sons tossed out and tugged the line. Those white boys were pretty resourceful, he had to admit.

Using hand signals, he alerted his men who were strategically placed at four points around the garage. Whoever showed up wasn't going to get away without feeling a bullet. The Horse quietly emerged from their hiding places as three men worked on picking the garage lock.

"Don't…..move." Derrell's voice dangerously warned.

The three men jerked around to find six, huge brother's all with guns aimed right at their heads. Dropping their tools and flashlights, they held their hands up. "Shit," one of them said. "What the fuck is this?"

"I should be askin' you that, my sticky-fingered friend," Derrell answered. "You this crew that's been takin' these fancy-ass cars and pimpin' the parts?" The three men were silent, which pretty much answered the question. "Who else?"

"What?"

"Other crew members," Derrell spit out. "How many?"

"Two," one of the other men said.

"Where are they?"

"Another job."

Stepping forward, Derrell cocked back his gun, its barrel never leaving the forehead of one of the men he approached. "You know what happens when you step on someone else's toes?" Derrell then nodded to one of his guys who fired his silencer close to the feet of one of the three men. "They get their own shot off. _ Your_ crew's been cuttin' into _our _business and_ we_ don't like it. You sure there's just five of you."

"Just….just five who work on-site."

"What about off-site?"

"One."

Motioning to his own men to keep their guns trained on the three thieves, Derrell stepped back to briefly talk with is VP and Sergeant. After words were exchanged and heads nodded, Derrell walked up to one of them – his gun pointed right between his eyes. "You wanna get outta here alive, my stupid-ass white thief?"

The man nodded furiously. "Yeah."

"Good. First, you listen. Then, you're gonna talk."

**Next Day**

**Monday 1/21/13**

"_It's a lunch date then,"_ Amanda said on the other end_. "I'll pick up that eggplant parm you like and get me and the bambino something else."_

Following through with her promise to take Monday off, Daisy momentarily forgot about her shitty, Evan-less, Tig-less weekend and lit up at her friends words. "So…..it's a boy?"

"_Won't find out until Wednesday. And, we're not telling anyone. Really. If Gemma finds out I told you and not her I'll have to move to another planet. So…..I'll swing by around one?"_

Daisy couldn't wait. She stayed barricaded in her house the last two days – even forgetting to shower yesterday, which had nothing to do with Tig's taunt. Part of her felt bad about her fight with Evan. She could understand how humiliated he might've felt about her finding out about his finances. But to say he couldn't trust her hurt her to the core. And like Tig said, she culminated the evening of emotional lows by winding up in another man's bed. It didn't make it right, but, even though she'd die before admitting it, it felt real good.

And with Evan not so much as texting an apology for Friday night, Daisy was ready to leave her two-day pity party and enjoy the afternoon with her friend. "Perfect."

Hanging up, she threw off her mint green robe which had been plastered to her body since yesterday morning, tossed it in the laundry basket then took a nice, long shower. Even though she was going to gorge herself on a messy, cheesy eggplant parm grinder in her own kitchen, Daisy slummed enough the past two days and chose a pretty outfit. Burgendy, skinny jeans, tailored, white DKNY blouse, and black, knee-high boots. With her thick, wavy hair pulled back in a low pony-tail she put simple pearl studs in her ears then checked her appearance.

Looking at the clock, she had an hour before Amanda showed up and went to set the kitchen table – pulling classic Fiesta-wear out of her cabinets when her cell phone went off. Dashing to it, her heart thudded when she saw the display. One, two, three rings she let it go before deciding not to say a big 'eff-you' and let it go to voice mail. She tapped 'answer' and took a deep breath. "What, Evan?" She wasn't going to let him ruin her first good mood all weekend.

"Daisy," he sounded breathless. "Babe, look….I….I need you to come get me."

Was he kidding? Really, was he actually kidding? "Evan. How dare you call me like this after….…."

"My car just got stolen!"

**~/~**

**Please review if you feel so inclined.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: One more chapter left. It'll include a time jump to coincide with the events in Chapter 3 of 'Best Laid Plans'. I hope I was able to tie this mess up without any discrepencies, but truth be told my mind has been mush between work and getting ready for Christmas. I really could've done a lot more with this story if I had time to make it longer, but I hope you were all satisfied with this.**

**How will Tig and Daisy end up - you'll have to wait and see.**

**Chapter 13**

"_Daisy? Babe? You there?"_

Daisy momentarily slipped out of the moment after Evan's admission – completely blocking out his frantic plea. "Yes. I'm here? Evan…..what happened?"

"I just told you – my car got stolen!" His snappy tone took her aback, making her realize the idiocy of her question.

"Sorry!" she shouted right back. "It's just…you call and drop this on me after you walked out on me Friday night then not hearing from you …."

"Babe, I'm sorr…."

"Don't call me that!" She didn't regret the outburst this time. She'd told him many times before not to call her 'babe'. And even though she didn't want to kick him when he was down, another part of her – a whole new part of her – suddenly didn't care.

Evan took a calming breath on the other end. "Daisy, please. I haven't had any sleep all night. Been at the damn police station. I'm sorry to call you like this – and I'm sorry about Friday night. My damn, stupid pride."

_Sort this shit out,_ she heard Tig's voice say in her head_, before commitin' to one man while landin' in another's bed._ That was before this. Before Evan became a victim. Before she agreed to set him up for something that was now clear he had no part in. But even if he wasn't some closet criminal, the last several months since their engagement really hadn't caused her any anticipation for the future – all because she was playing it safe. Well, she ended that sort of play when she pulled off her engagement ring and spent the night letting a man she'd never dream in a million years of letting within ten feet of her to do unspeakable things to her – things she didn't regret one iota.

But still, she had to play it cool. "Where did it happen?"

"Daisy, look. Can…..can you just come get me? We'll talk on the ride back. Don't tell Elliott what happened, just tell him you have to run out for an emergency."

_Why_, she thought to herself. "I'm not at work, Evan. I took today off. But, I'm having lunch with Amanda ….."

"And I'm stranded and need a ride home. Please?"

No matter how pissed she was about Friday, she got her revenge on Evan Friday night – not that sleeping with another man was the right thing to do. And she could've turned right around and went home as soon as she realized she was in Tig's driveway. But she didn't. She willingly went inside and didn't leave till the following morning. Twice - just like Tig told her. Twice she cheated on Evan and now his situation filled her with guilt. The least she could do was give him a ride.

"Fine. Where are you?"

"Right off Five in Fairfield. Green Valley Country Club. Met a potential client there – played a game of racquetball, had drinks afterwards. When I went to leave I couldn't find my damn car. Had to wait for the police, then I had to go down to the station….look, please, just come get me."

Fine. She'd get him, let him deal with this, then they needed to have a long talk about their future. "I'm on my way."

Hanging up, she immediately called Amanda – deciding not to tell her the nature of her emergency. It wasn't exactly lying, Daisy justified. She just didn't tell her what it is. After babbling to her friend Saturday morning about her disastrous Friday night with Evan, capped off by three rounds of hot sex with Tig, Daisy was too ashamed to admit she was going to Evan's rescue.

"_You sure everything's alright, Daisy?"_ Amanda asked with concern.

"Yes. Everything's fine. It's just…." She had to say something, "Evan called and needs a ride. I know, don't say it – especially after what happened."

"_Daisy, I'm not gonna judge you,"_ Amanda told her_. "Do what you gotta do."_

"Listen, I've got an extra house key I'll leave under the back mat. If you get here before I'm back just come in and wait."

"_Will do,"_ Amanda replied on the other end. "_Take your time. I'll see you later."_

**~A~**

Seeing the number on his burner, Jax flipped it open – hoping for the news he wanted to hear. "Talk to me, bro."

"_We got 'em," _Derrell said on the other line_. "Smack where you said they'd be. Spent a good portion of the night dealin' with the sitch."_

"Glad the intel was solid. I trust you…..worked it out."

" _Gave 'em proposition. They agree to work exclusively for us and, in return, we agree to let them keep both their hands."_

"Which they no doubt accepted."

"_They didn't have a choice."_

Having Steel Horse as an ally made Jax grateful they weren't an enemy. "They say anything else?"

"_As a matter of fact they did, my white brother."_

**~A~**

Touching up a bit of detail on his gas tank, Happy put the airbrush gun down and grabbed his ringing phone. "Hey."

"_Thought I'd check in_," Amanda said. _"Just finished picking up sandwiches and heading to Daisy's house to have lunch."_

"A'ight – just…..remember. Don't talk details too much."

"_I won't. I think her and Evan sort of made up. He just called – needing her to pick him up somewhere. Don't know what's going on. I'm sure I'll find out_ . _Said she'd be back soon and left me a key to let myself inside."_

"Take it easy, A. And stay warm. Not even forty today. Don't need ya gettin' sick on me."

"_You sound like a parent already_," she teased

"I mean it."

"_Love you."_

"Yeah, yeah," he teased her right back before hanging up.

**~A~**

"Tig!"

Exiting the tow truck with the kid after picking up a repo, Tig left Toby to take it off the winch by himself when Jax shouted for him. Lighting a smoke, he headed over. "Yeah?" He stood there calmly smoking, listening to Jax's every word . Without thinking, he clenched the cigarette between his teeth and pulled his burner out.

"You callin' 'er?"

"Gotta, man. She's gotta know."

"Make sure she stays safe – and _not_ at Oswalds," Jax told him.

It was surreal, Tig thought as he punched in the numbers, that Jax was charging him with keeping a woman safe.

**~A~**

"Need to stop at your house."

Daisy concentrated on the road instead of her fiancé fiddling with the contents of his gym bag beside her. "What for?"

"Because I left my blue pin striped dress shirt there, my brand new earbuds and my silver Cross pencil."

"I'm supposed to be having lunch with Amanda."

"Five minutes," he promised.

She inhaled only to exhale sharply. "Okay. Sorry. So…. did the police say when they'd have word on your car?"

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Who knows. All these other thefts didn't turn up the cars until a week later – completely stripped. Shit, my Lexus!"

"It's just a car, Evan."

He glared at her. "Says the girl with a Jag. Really, Daisy. Since when did you become so…..unconcerned?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. It's like, you're just acting different."

It just came out like word vomit. "Evan, when this settles down, we need to talk."

"Yeah. We do," he replied almost too cooperatively.

Approaching her street, Daisy heard her phone ring in her purse which was on the floor by Evan's feet. "I'll get it," he said, unzippering her purse. Pulling her phone out, he looked at the number on the display.

"Give it to me," she demanded, reaching out to grab the phone, only to have him hold it away from her as he answered it.

"Hello?"

"_Who the hell is this_?" an unpleasant voice on the other side said.

"Who the hell is _this_?" Evan shot right back.

Again, Daisy reached out to smack the phone out of his hand, having it land on the floor. Quickly, Evan scooped it up as Daisy pulled in her driveway. "Who was that, Daisy?"

Putting the car in 'park', Daisy grabbed her purse off the floor and glared at him. "None of your business, Evan. Give me my phone back."

Reluctantly, he did. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we do need to talk."

"Five minutes," she told him as they headed in through the back door. "Then you have to leave."

Daisy opened the door as he followed her inside from behind. "That's the plan," he quietly told her.

**~A~**

"The douche answered her phone," Tig told Jax. "He's with her."

"Where?"

"Dunno. Just heard 'em talkin' a bit afterwards before I got disconnected." Tig opened went to dial again, only to hold back. "Shit!" He realized his little outburst put an amused look on Jax's face. "What?"

"You really care about 'er."

He wasn't in the mood for the little, blonde king to get him to open up about his feelings. "I _care _about puttin' an end to this shit."

"Then let's figure out where they are?"

"Get Hap. Maybe Amanda knows?"

Both men went over to the garage where Happy had resumed his air brushing. "Hey…..think Amanda may know Daisy's whereabouts?" Jax asked.

Happy stopped what he was doing and straightened up. "They're havin' lunch – at her house."

"Amanda's there now?" Tig asked.

"Why. What's goin' on?"

Jax relayed the story which caused Happy's body to tense. "Amanda said Daisy got a call – had to go pick Evan up somewhere."

"Now we know why," Jax asked.

For a moment, Tig thought – about the words he overheard between Daisy and Evan before the phone cut off. _ Five minutes. Then you have to leave._ "Daisy's house. That's where they are."

"That's where Amanda is probably waiting," Happy bit out.

"Get Chibs and Phil," Jax told them. "No bikes. Take the van."

**~A~**

A faint aroma of something pleasant distracted Daisy only for a nano-second upon entering the house. Her main mission was to get Evans' stuff and get him out. "I'll get your things out of the bed…."

"Sit down, Daisy." Evan's voice was cold, the look on his face hard with the exception of a smirk.

"I told you Evan…I'm having lunch…."

"I….don't….care," he spat out, the tone causing her to do as she was told. "I don't want my things. What I want is for you to listen carefully. I need to make a couple of calls on your land line. Then, you're going to give me a ride to the airport."

Daisy blinked as she fiddled with the buttons of her DKNY blouse. "Airport? For what?"

"Business trip," was all he said.

"You're lying." The venom in her voice was thick as the words bubbled out. "About this and….everything else."

Evan gave her a sarcastic look. "Define….._everything else_?"

A boldness she never before possessed took over. "Your car didn't really get stolen, did it?"

He sweetly smiled. "You're as smart as you are well-dressed….._babe_." The last word was meant to really piss her off. "So smart that you were onto me. How ironic that the crew I'd been tipping off for a couple of years now suddenly gets caught at the exact location where Elliott's wife's car was being stored? You know – the one _you_ told me about? Bunch of black bikers they were running competiton with caught three of them. Got word to the other two and fortunately one of them took the time to let me know. Won't be long before they spill my name, so I gotta get out of here. Lay low for a while. But I gotta know – how the hell did you get involved?"

Daisy's hands went from playing with her buttons to gripping the seat of the kitchen chair. She refused to look Evan in the face as the invisible steel rod stiffened her spine to the point of pain. She wouldn't cower. She wouldn't break. She would take a page from her friend's book and be strong. Her friend. Amanda. That…..that unidentifiable aroma when she walked inside. Eggplant parmesan!

Amanda was here.

And it was verified by the sound of water running in the bathroom then the door opening.

"Who the hell?" Evan said, going to look out the kitchen.

"Evan, don't!"

Ignoring Daisy's interjection, Evan ran practically smack into Amanda "Oh…..Evan, hi," she said, making her way fully into the kitchen. "I thought I heard voices, but I thought," she looked at Daisy, "you had to bring him somewhere."

"She does," Evan bit out. "Right now. Your little lunch date's gonna have to be cancelled."

Amanda's eyes flitted from Evan to Daisy - who was trying to hide her nervousness. "Daisy what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Amanda," she calmly said. "Something came up. I have to bring Evan to the air…."

"You need to leave," Evan said sharply, cutting off Daisy.

Something weird was going on and Amanda didn't look like she was buying it. And if this had to do with the suspicion regarding Evan, the last thing she wanted was her friend alone with him. "No, Evan," Amanda told him. "I think _you_ need to leave."

He smiled – a sick, sweet smile as if no woman – or two – was going to tell him what to do. "Who's gonna make me?"

Not looking the least bit as nervous as her friend, Amanda took the handle of her purse which was hanging off the back of the kitchen chair and went to open it. But the sound of a drawer opening, metal clanging and Daisy gasping made Amanda stop what she was doing. The steel blade Evan was holding in his hand reflected the mid-afternoon sun coming through the window behind him. "Put it down," he ordered.

Amanda wisely put her purse on the table as Daisy stood up from her chair. "Evan, stop! Are you crazy."

"Nope. Just need to get out of here."

"Put the knife down, Evan," Daisy told him. "She's pregnant for God's sake!"

"Then you better get out of here," Evan told Amanda.

"Why do you need Daisy with you?" Amanda asked. "Leave her out of this. Just…..go by yourself."

"So she can stay behind and call the police? She comes with me. Now…..get out of here."

Amanda gave Daisy a desperate look as if asking what she should do. "Go, Amanda. I'll be fine. Just….do as he says."

With reluctance, Amanda went to retrieve her purse where she placed it on the kitchen table, only for Evan to hold it down with the tip of the knife. "Leave it."

"What?"

"I said leave it. Keys and phone are probably in there. Don't need you running to or calling anyone either- especially at that motorcycle club. Wait outside. We'll be out as soon as I make some a few calls."

Amanda realized she didn't do as Hap asked earlier. "It's cold outside. I don't have a coat and my car is locked…."

"Will you fucking leave!"

"Alright, alright," Amanda said, slowly making it to the door. "Just…don't you dare hurt Daisy."

"Goodbye, sweetheart," Evan sarcastically said.

Grabbing her friend's hand, Amanda gave her a look before squeezing it, then casually cast her eyes towards her purse on the table before leaving."

Alone, Evan held his hand out. "Gimme the phone then stay right there where I can see you."

Doing as she was told, Daisy sat back down as Evan dialed. "Evan, please. Take my car to the airport. Go. I won't call anyone. I promise. Just, please…..leave."

He stopped pressing numbers and just looked at her. "You know, I can't believe I wanted to marry you. Yeah, you're pretty, thin and dress nice, but…..that's about it. You're too anal. Thought maybe you'd change, loosen up, but I guess not. That's why I kept putting off talking about planning the wedding. That's why I didn't want us moving in together yet. You're too much of a ….stiff ass."

Those two words cause her spine to straighten to the point of pain. Coming from Tig, it was like a sarcastic term of endearment. Coming from Evan, it was downright cruel. "Maybe it was the company I was keeping," she tossed right back at him. "You're not exactly perfect either, Evan. It's a wonder I never fell asleep during sex. Probably because it was over before I could."

"You're weren't exactly a good lay either, babe."

Her teeth gritted over that nickname and he knew it. She wanted to hurt him and hurt him bad. "Like I said, probably the company I'm keeping. I'm really a lot better."

"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Daisy was playing with fire – not to mention a crazed-now-ex-fiance with a knife. But she didn't care. Maybe a little turmoil in her neatly, planned out life was what it needed right now. "Let's just say…..you're not the only one keeping secrets, Evan."

Dropping the phone and the knife on the counter, Evan shot over to her, back-handing her across the face as hard as he could. The force caused Daisy to fall off the chair, her hand grabbing the small, rectangular kitchen table before it toppled on its side. Immediately, her right hand came up to hold the side of her face which immediately began to swell, but Evan bent over, grabbed her right wrist and jerked her to sit up. "Give it back. The ring. Take it off and give it back, you cheating, little slut."

Defiantly, she shook her head. "Least you can do to make up for all…this."

Swiping the knife back off the counter, he pointed it at her left hand. "Take it off or I'll cut your finger off. Dropped ten g's on that thing. No way are you keeping it. Now that this little side business of mine's gone south, I'm gonna need every dime to pay off my debt."

"Okay, okay," she said, her voice and bravado beginning to crack. As she tried to pry it off her swollen hands, she glanced at the stuff from the over-turned kitchen table, now on the floor. Especially….Amanda's purse. Something instantly clicked in her mind as she remembered that look Amanda gave her before leaving. It all made sense now. All she needed was an opening.

Pulling the ring off, she flung it across the kitchen floor until it slid into a corner. "Here. I hope you choke on it."

Snorting, Evan turned his back to go retrieve the ring. It was the opening Daisy needed as she quickly grabbed Amanda's purse and reached inside. She remembered the first time she felt it – that time in the back of Amanda's store after she got attacked when Daisy went to retrieve Amanda's cell for her. Now she felt it again and instead of gingerly putting it back, she pulled it out.

"Got it," Evan said, straightening up.

"Good. Now put it on the counter."

"Excuse me," Evan said, turning around to find Daisy pointing a gun at him.

**~A~**

The van carrying four Sons made its way down Daisy's street, until Tig pointed. "There's her house. Don't pull in front."

"Isn't that….?" Phil began to say behind the wheel as he squinted behind his spectacles, "Amanda standing outside?"

"What?" Happy said from where he was in back with Chibs. "Where?"

Phil pointed to where Amanda stood on the sidewalk – her arms huddled around her coatless body. Parking the van several spots down, the side door opened where Happy and Chibs hopped out. Sans their cuts as not to be conspicuous, Happy unzipped his hoody and put it around her shoulders as he approached her. "What the hell, Amanda?"

**~A~**

"What the hell, Daisy?"

She wasn't a natural at holding a gun, Daisy admitted. In fact, both hands which held the cold, black handle shook as she kept it pointed at Evan. "You heard what I said. Put the ring down," she released her left hand to search for Amanda's iPhone in her purse – her eyes on Evan the entire time.

"Don't," Evan told her. "Don't do this."

"What? You mean threaten you with a gun the way you did to me with a knife? Guess what? The gun wins out."

"Not if you can't use it," Evan told her with a snicker. "You can't even hold the thing without shaking. "Just," he held out his hand, "hand it over before either one of us gets hurt."

She looked at him absurdly. "Oh, _now _you're worried about me getting hurt? A minute ago you were ready to cut my ring-finger off."

"Daisy, please. Let's…..let's make this easy, okay. C'mon, we have to go."

"No!" If anything the gun allowed her to be a little more courageous. "_You_ have to go. But trust me, Evan. You won't get far."

"Daisy?"

"Shut up, Evan."

"C'mon," he walked over to her. "Please….babe…."

And then she snapped. _"I warned you not to call me that_!" she shouted before pulling the trigger.

**~A~  
**

"He's ….he's inside with her," Amanda said in between shivers. "He's….he's got a knife. He's gonna make her drive him to the airport. Sent me out here without my purse so I couldn't drive or call anyone."

Rubbing her arms briskly, he handed her over to Phil. "Get her in the van. Keep it runnin' with the heat on."

Meanwhile, Chibs scanned the house before looking at Hap. "'ow do we do this?"

"Can't wait for 'em to come out," Hap said. "It'll make too much of a scene."

"Just barge in back, man," Tig said. "He probably don't have the knife on her."

"What if he does?" Chibs asked.

"We gotta her 'er outta there," Tig said anxiously. "She ain't gonna know how to defend herself…."

And then they heard it – a 'pop' from inside the house.

"What the 'ell?" Chibs said. "e 'ave a gun, too?"

"Nope," Amanda said from van before Phil closed the door. "Daisy must've found mine.

Taking advantage of the quiet street where residents were either at work or school, the three men dashed to the back door, only to find it locked. Looking through the window, Tig saw Daisy on the floor, the gun still in her hand, a large welt forming on the right side of her face, as Evan was sprawled on the other side, grabbing his bleeding leg. He tapped on the glass, startling her to jerk around. "Open the door, Daisy," he calmly told her.

But she wouldn't budge. Wouldn't take the gun off Evan, as if fearing he'd get up and finish her off. Slowly she shook her head, which left Tig only one option. His gloved hand fisted, he punched through the glass, unlocked the door and headed in first. Happy entered next, immediately giving the entire house a thorough once over to make sure they were alone. Chibs then came in and knelt down next to Daisy to try to coax the gun out of her hand.

But Tig had his own agenda as he went over to Evan's prone body as he groaned in pain. "Shut up!" he spat before bending over to grab him by the shirt collar. A leather covered fist connected with Evan's jaw. "That's for making a pregnant woman stand out in the cold. This," his fist came down again, "is for smacking her," motioning to Daisy, "in the face. And this," one final blow came down, "is for just bein' a stupid, little douche."

Evan sputtered what was supposed to be words through spurts of blood in his mouth. "My….my leg. My leg. She fucking shot me."

"Lucky she didn't kill ya, asshole."

"Clear," Happy said, entering the kitchen and taking in the carnage.

Chibs had gotten Daisy disarmed, off the floor and sitting in a chair. Her mind beginning to process everything as she was finally able to form words. "It was him. He was the snitch."

"We know," Chibs replied.

"Yeah," Tig sneered in Evan's face. "Know all about it. The little crew you tip off, they spilled your name real fast. But I wouldn't try to do the same because you know what happens to snitches in jail.?"

Evan heaved rapid breaths as he was slowly going in and out of consciousness. "Jail?"

"Now that there's a bullet in 'im we can't call Phillips in," Happy said.

"There's always Plan B," Tig said, before jerking Evan awake. "Listen…closely. We get that bullet out and patch ya up. We then talk to Elliott and have him agree to give you a nice letter of recommendation. Then you pack your shit and move on to another state. I don't wanna smell your douchy ass in California, you got me?"

"But….but…." Evan sputtered.

"You never_, ever_ speak of what just happened here," Tig cut him off. "We got charters in every state. We hear you've been talkin', you'll be silenced for good – got it."

All Evan could do was nod as he was fading in and out. Tig looked up at Chibs. "We gotta move."

Chibs looked at Daisy. "Git me ice, rubbin' alcohol, needle and thread and whatever strong drink ya got on hand, lassie."

Still in a fog, Daisy moved about the house, getting what was requested. Handing everything over to Chibs, Happy clapped him on the back and looked at Tig. "Take 'er out to the van. Have Phil drop 'em off at the club then right back. Should be done by then."

"Yeah, a'ight," Tig replied, going up to Daisy. "You okay, doll?"

She wasn't sure. The last two hours was a complete blur in which her routine life had completely turned upside down by a man she had promised to marry before it was then straightened back up by a man she promised to despise. Irony could be very, very cruel. "Yeah. I'm fine. Is Amanda okay?"

"She's in the van. C'mon, gonna get you girls outta here."

She grabbed her purse as well as putting Amanda's gun back in hers before allowing Tig to escort her to the door. She then went over to the counter and snatched the diamond ring, unable to look at her crumpled ex-fiance on the floor before walking back over to Tig. "What's going to happen to him?"

He gave her a hard look. "Do you care?"

She was never so confident about an answer in her life. "No. I don't."

"Then let's go."

Once outside, she stopped him on the way down to the driveway, taking him by the hand. "Thank you."

The gesture was sincere, her touch soft and the vision of her with a gun in her hand earlier hot. The little stiff-ass came a long way. Granted she wasn't nearly hardened enough for this life, but she had sprouted a set of balls under those designer clothes. "You did good, Daze. Stepped up. Didn't panic."

"I was petrified."

"You ain't used to this shit." Suddenly, he had an urge to comfort her. To hold her. To protect her. The man he was, the man who had caused a lot of hurt to a lot of woman in his past, was slowly starting to morph into one who could possible allow himself to be nurture and be nurtured. It was a new realization which made him uncomfortable. He'd have to take this in steps. Baby steps. Ones which started by him brushing a loose piece of hair out of her face, but not before he rubbed it between his fingers. "You gonna be a'ight?"

She nodded, her hand filling itself with the material of his sweatshirt. Their eyes finding each other as they fought a full blown PDA. "Yes. I'll be fine. None of this would've happened if I just did what you told me."

Without thinking, he ran a finger across her bottom lip, taking in the way it trembled at his touch. Her lips opened to kiss his finger – grease-filled nails and all – a seductive move that made him want to push her up against the side of the house – PDA be damned. With a self-control which came along with this new change, his lips found her ear. "Yeah? What's that, doll?"

Her arm snaked around his waist as a long, leg came up to hook around his as it was her turn to whisper in his ear. "Re-think the engagement."


	14. Epilogue

**Authors Note: Honestly, I did not feel this was my best work as I could've gone a lot deeper into this relationship if I had more time to lengthen the story. I hope you were all satisfied with what I was able to offer and enjoyed the ride. The hospital scene her coincides with the one in Chapter 3 of Best Laid Plans.**

**Again, I hope you enjoy the end. It's the longest chapter with two major time jumps and I loved writing every word. This will be last full-length story and I will be updating my profile as to my future writing plans on this site.**

** As always, I would love to know what you think if you are so inclined. You guys have been amazing during my tenure here! I hope I did Tig justice.**

**Epilogue**

**Two Months Later**

_Friday, March 15__th__, 2013_

_San Joaquin County News_

_**Murder Suspects Found Dead**__….Two men arrested in connection with a homicide committed almost a month earlier were found brutally murdered late last night. Police say the bodies of Michael Forbes, 36, and James Tucker, 35, were discovered by a trucker who had pulled to the side of the road near the recently closed down Interstate Five off-ramp near Lockeford to check his map. From his view from the cab of the vehicle, he noticed something tied to the guard-rail past the 'Do Not Enter' sign. The driver exited his truck with a flashlight and saw two bodies, their heads practically caved in, strung up to the guard rail with chicken wire._

_Authorities believe that Forbes and Tucker, who were arrested last month in the murder of Evan Reese, 35, in his home in Merced, were part of a car theft ring that had been plaguing the northern California area for the last two years. It was suspected that Reese was involved as well and that his murder was connected to it. Forbes and Tucker had been released on bond and under supervision after having agreed to work with authorities to provide information leading to the arrest of the other individuals involved in the ring. _

Juice closed his laptop. "That' pretty much the gist of it."

Resting back in his chair, Jax looked around the table. "Looks like Derrell took care of business."

"Seems like it," Bobby agreed. "Those two were gonna rat out the other three who work for The Horse now."

"And if that happened," Happy added with a serious face, "those three would've sung like canaries."

Chibs took a drag and blew a stream of smoke upwards. "Vicious circle of life, laddies."

"Now that the galaxy's been aligned back in our favor, what's on the agenda today?"

"Me and Ope are gonna go see Oswald," Bobby spoke up. "Get the set-up for the auction end of month."

Jax nodded, then looked down at Juice. "Eve got all the docs ready for what we got?"

"I'll check, but I'm sure she does."

"What the status on our little bar and grill venture?" Clay asked.

"Liquor and food licenses locked," Phil spoke up. "Demo's done. Framin's complete. Most of the sheetrock's up. Paint and floor are last."

Opie's eyebrows went up. "How much is this hole in the wall costin' us?"

"A lot less than it cost anyone else," Bobby replied. "Oswald supplied the materials below cost, hang-arounds been doin' labor that don't require a license. T-Boy's been workin' his ass off, gotta say. Been doin' cleanup till almost ten every night – off the clock." Bobby glanced around the table then back at Jax. "Maybe…think about prospectin' 'im?"

Tig finally decided to speak up. "Not till he changes the color of that bike."

A round of laughs ended with Jax waving his hand. "Think about it," he told everyone, then looked down at Clay. "Wanna swing by the bar and grill with me and Hap – do a once-through?"

Opening and closing his hand under the table, Clay held back the urge to wince. "Yeah, why not," he said, holdin' up his hand. "Just lemme juice up first."

"A'ight. Chibs…..Phil….you guys got the garage. Let's roll." The gavel came down and everyone got up except Jax who stayed behind. "Hey?"

Somehow Tig knew that was directed at him. "Yeah?"

"You hear from 'er?"

Tig shook his head. "Nah. Leavin' 'er alone. All this shit with Evan….."

"More than expected," Jax answered. "Playin' the grieving ex-fiance for the family, tryin' to play dumb about knowin' anything…."

"I guess," Tig shrugged, before looking Jax dead in the eye. "She won't talk."

Grabbing his cigarettes and lighter, Jax passed Tig on the way out. "Maybe it's time you made sure of it."

**~A~**

**Next Day – Early Evening**

Never in her perfectly appointed life did Daisy ever imagine the events that would turn it sideways. From a college boyfriend who initiated the downward spiral with her family, to the years of rebuilding a grand illusion of culture, fashion and good judgement to escape the stigma attached to her, to landing a sweet position with a man connected to the towns motorcycle club to finally hooking what she thought was 'the big catch' – a young man of education, intelligence, position and family status. A man who would prove her parents wrong – that she _was_ able to make good, solid choices and be the well-bred, private-schooled girl from Greenwich, Connecticut she was raised to be and not some brazen inner rebel she was secretly suppressing.

But that all went south two months ago when said-catch turned out to be a closet informant to a band of local car thieves and the man she had tried to avoid like the plague actually turned out_ not_ to be the bad guy. What was to become of them once everything ended was never clear - as Daisy didn't think anything remotely connected inside Tig Trager's head was – but things were left to a point of where she didn't know whether to go right or left.

Nor would she have time to even ponder the status of any kind of relationship as news of Evan's murder surfaced shortly after. Only then did Tig finally show his face – and _only_ because he was doing double duty while meeting with Oswald at the farm and _only_ to stress her discretion in the matter and that the club had nothing to do with it. But Daisy was soon swept up in having to put on yet another façade of keeping Evan's secret life just that. For once, the girl who had survived behind well-dressed lies about herself and others for years wanted to come out and tell hers and Evan's parents exactly what a loser he really was. But it would only punctuate her ineptness at selecting someone worthy of her upbringing nor did Mr. & Mrs. Walter Reese need to bury their son knowing the dark truth about him.

Yet here she was fretting over yet another example of a 'poor choice' – an outlaw biker covered in leather, ink and grease who stumbled into her life as a means to ridicule and criticize it only to wind up acting as if he'd cared. And two months and only one Tig-sighting later, she began to question his sincerity. What would have become of them? What kind of relationship could they have? What kind of relationship did she even want, if any at all? With her track record, her choices right now should be a convent or lesbianism.

But as dusk began to settle over Charming, she drove her pale, blue Jag home– the delicious aromas from the grocery bag on her back seat swirling around the interior making her mouth water. Buy-one-get-one-free rotisserie chickens, sweet potato casserole, green beans, salad stuff, box of cinnamon tea and a bottle of wine. Enough to last her a couple of days. Or…..enough for two?

Tig may have went into hiding, but she needed closure. If this was all just a game to him – one that he though he won out in the end and got what he wanted before deciding it wasn't worth his time anymore – then she needed to hear it from him. A sharp turn of the steering wheel had her Jag making a u-turn, backtracking along the roads she remembered him leading her down that night not too long ago. The brightly lit sign of the package store signaled the landmark she was looking for – and the bike parked alongside the house next to it confirmed it.

Pulling up alongside, Daisy exited the vehicle with her purse in one hand, the grocery bag in the other. Spur of the moment decisions were never part of her routine. In her world of Dayplanners, appointments and scheduling, this was out of her realm. But the decision to ease up and be a bit spontaneous came with the topsy-turviness her life had endured the last several months. But the one habit she refused to change was her clothes and her charcoal, knit Ann Klein dress and black Steve Madden boots warded off the chill of the mid-March evening as she knocked on the door.

**~A~**

Cell and gun sitting next to bottle of cold beer leaving a wet ring on the old, wooden coffee table, Tig was perfectly content with his current position. On the couch, remote in hand and Sasha taking more than her share of room squeezed in next to him, he quickly flicked through a variety of cable channels while pondering what was leftover in the fridge. It was all he could do to keep from picking up his cell and making that call Jax asked of him yesterday.

It was one thing to change for the club. The ink on his ribs was his personal stamp attesting to that. But anything further was beyond his comfort zone – one that Daisy McKay had slowly broken through. But Evan's death was a perfect excuse to stay away from her. Leave her be. Give her space to deal. Play up being the good, faithful wife-to-be in front of his family. All this out of what he thought was consideration for her when, in fact, he needed pull back from where things stood before he got too far pulled-in. A brother's wife was dead because of his error and another was almost killed because of his inability to think clearly. He already tainted Daisy – he didn't need to drag her into the mess which was his confused life. And even if he did, how would he classify it?

A grunted 'woof' next to him made him sit up, grab his beer and scratch the dog's head. "What is it, ol' girl?" The dog struggled to sit up on the broken-in couch before she gingerly climbed down and headed to the door – her 'woofs' now more repetitive as she circled impatiently. He went to reach for his nine, but stopped when he heard knocking.

Not in the mood for anyone right now, he got up – secretly hoping it might be a sweetbutt or even Toby and Erin bearing something edible for supper. Opening the door, he got his wish – which was attached to what he'd been avoiding. "Hey." He kept the surprise out of his voice. "What're you doin' here?"

"Can I come in?" Daisy politely asked.

Stepping aside, Tig opened the door wider as he motioned Sasha next to him. He got a whiff of what was in the bag as she entered. "What'cha got in there?"

In the little kitchen, Daisy plopped the bag on the counter and began to unpack the food. She kept her eyes off him the entire time. "I hadn't heard from you."

This was it. Here it came, he thought. The '_why haven't you called me'_ schpiel bitches love to torment you with. But Daisy's charge didn't come across as whiny or needy. It was more a matter-of-fact statement. "Yeah. I know. Sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't apologize. You know how that winds up."

"You come over here to give me shit?"

She just shook her head as she unpackaged everything. "To be honest, I don't know what made me come over here," she replied. "I had all this – ready to go home and…," she paused, "I just…I know you're alone and probably don't cook for yourself."

He suppressed a cocky grin then went over to what she laid out on the counter. "You got all this for me?"

"Not intentionally. I was driving home from the store and I just….." again, she paused then finally looked straight at him. "Are you avoiding me now? Is that how it's going to be? You got me to throw myself at you, turned my life upside down, then….nothing."

"Hey," he cut in. "No one held a gun to your head. Speakin' of which – forgot to tell ya – you're a pretty good shot, doll-face."

She looked at him appalled. "Is _that _all you have to say to me?"

"Nah. Your ass looks good in that dress."

Rod-stiff spine, Daisy snatched her purse and moved away from the counter. "I forgot how charming you were," as she headed for the door. "Enjoy dinner. I'll see you around."

The dog 'woofed' as if calling for Tig to do something, but he was already on it, moving a little faster than Daisy to block the door. "Just what the hell do you want from me?"

Startled, Daisy backed away, shaking her head. "I don't know. I mean, I want…..but then I don't. I can't. I'm not good at this, Tig. I have better relationships with department stores. Maybe…."she bowed her head, "maybe Evan was right. Maybe I'm too neurotic and structured for anyone to tolerate."

"He said that?"

"He also said I was a lousy lay."

That's because the dead, little douche didn't know what the hell to do with a woman. "Did you tell 'im to check with me?"

She folded her arms and regarded him sarcastically. "Yeah. Right before I shot him in the leg."

"Answer me."

"I did."

"No," he punctuated, walking forward causing her to back into the living room. "What do you _want _from me?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Wanting to answer truthfully, but then not. He, on the other hand had no problem. "If you want the ring, the house and the church weddin', then there's the door, sweetheart. I ain't that guy. Won't ever be."

Daisy nodded, her eyes on his. "I know."

"I'm an outlaw. This," he motioned around the house, "rarity I'm home this early at night. When I'm needed, I go. When I'm called, I leave. Day trips, road trips that could last a month, that's my life, Daze."

"I understand."

"Do you? You think bein' friends with Amanda, chewin' out Gemma and poppin' a guy in the leg cuts you out for this shit? It don't."

"I never asked to be part of it, Tig," she shot back. "But _you _made yourself a part of _my life_ and then when things really went from bad to worse you…you….."

"I…_what_?"

"You weren't there."

"That's right," he told her. "I was never there for no one. Not my ex, not my daughters…."

Daisy's eyes widened. "Your….daughters? You have….."

"Lot you don't know about me" he cut her off. "Maybe you're better off.

Tig waited to see her reaction. Would she curl up in a ball and roll away or would she stand there and piss him off some more. She stood straight, that invisible spinal rod straightening every glorious, slender inch of her five foot nine frame. Even those little tits looked good under the clingy fabric of that dress as he pondered what color panties she had on underneath. "Then I guess I have my answer," she firmly stated. It wasn't a concession. She sounded resigned to the fact that whatever twisted mess they entwined themselves in together over the last several months was a fleeting memory. "If you'll excuse me, I'll leave so you can have your dinner."

He couldn't believe it. Daisy conceded with style and propriety, but didn't look the least bit defeated. Good. He didn't need baggage. The club was enough. He had his nine, his Dyna a place of his own, a dog on loaner and pussy whenever the mood struck him. That suited him just fine, but this little stiff ass made his teeth grind and his head both laugh and hurt at the same time.

He had long since learned not to react, but he went against the better judgement he was recently honing and reverted back to being a man who wasn't ready to let go so quickly. "That's it?" he asked as she went for the doorknob. "Just like that – gonna walk away and not look back?"

Her other hand went to her hip as long, layers of chocolate-cherry hair tossed itself over her shoulder. He devoured her silhouette – long, lean, tight. Yeah, still too thin for his taste, but she popped out in the right places. Hazel eyes never looked so fiery. "Consider this my last…._look back_."

"Then what?" he continued to taunt her. "Go home, drink your tea…"

"My tea!"

She darted back to the kitchen and rummaged in the bag, pulling out both the tea and bottle of wine. His eyes followed her back to the door, long legs in high boots doing damage to his resolve. "Yeah," he said. "Get drunk on that pussy juice then go to bed alone."

She shrugged. "Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow night. Heck, even maybe the rest of the month I will. But after that…who knows. Yours isn't the only bed I can find my way into."

_Oh no she didn't!_ he thought. He was on her in an instant, pulling the wine bottle out of her hand and placing it on the table next to the door. The box of tea was knocked to the floor for Sasha to go over for an investigative sniff. A whoosh of air escaped Daisy's lungs as he violently pushed her up against the door, his mood none-too-good. "Yeah?" he dangerously spat out. "That's what you wanna do, Daze? Be some bed hoppin' slut?"

"Shut up!" she spat out, struggling against him.

"Why'd you come over, doll?"

"I told you…"

"Nah – the truth." He pushed up against her so that she felt exactly what her little act did to him. "This what you want? Huh? You wanna forget about relationships and just fuck exclusively?"

Her eyes regarded him with hatred. "Then I'd really be a slut."

"Not if you ain't hoppin' into bed with other guys."

"And what about you…."

"Don't ask questions. If this is what you want, then you got rules to follow. We ain't datin' and you ain't my ol' lady. I come to you, you come to me…..whatever. You don't come lookin' for me at the club, question me about my business, where I go or what I do. You don't come to club functions, holidays….whatever. If Amanda invites you, I need to know about it. We keep this under wraps. You do your thing, and I'll do mine which is pretty much whatever I want. But as for you…."he closed any remaining space between them to get as uncomfortably close as possible, "I find out that tight, little pussy of yours is gettin' action elsewhere, you're gonna see exactly what kind of bastard I can be – got it?"

He just waited – waited for those seething words of warning to seep in so she could bolt out of there like the devil was biting at her designer boots. But she didn't - instead she just stood perfectly still in his grasp, her hazel eyes glazed over as her hands slowly began to come up to his neck. Slowly…..ever so slowly…..she began to unbutton his shirt. Speechless, all he did was watch until she reached the last button before sliding a warm hand onto his torso – running it over his new work of art. "I like this."

He just read her the MC riot act regarding how a bitch off-the-books needs to act and all she was interested in was his ink. "It's new."

"Hmmm," she hummed. "A Phoenix rising from the ashes."

"It's a crow."

"It's supposed to be you?" she asked.

"What I tell ya about askin' questions."

"What's your real name?"

Did she have a hearing problem.? "Shit,doll…..what I just…."

"Please?"

Her tone was out of genuine curiosity and not the syrupy whininess some chicks had. He huffed and gave reluctantly gave in. Shit, was this just the start? "Alex."

A wide smile split Daisy's face. "Really? It is? Can I call you that…?"

"No!"

Gently, she sighed as she continued to caress him. "Fine."

She was seriously wigging him out. She actually wanted to stay, to agree to his terms. This wasn't the little priss he met last May when she jumped if he so much as said 'boo'. Maybe there _was_ more to her than that damn dress. She was like a prettily wrapped gift box you couldn't wait to tear the paper off of and see what lurked inside. Getting past the clothes and inside her body was easy, but maybe she was a tougher nut to crack than he thought. "Well?"

Her head dipped to kiss his neck before trailing down his chest. "Well…..what?"

She was getting good at this. That alone kept his interest up. "'bout what I said. You got a problem with it?"

Lifting her head, Daisy's eyes reached his as her hand slid lower, slender fingers slowly massaging the hardness behind his fly. "You want me to fix you a plate?"

That was enough of an answer for him as he pulled her away from the door. "Later," he said, wrapping her around him. "Right now we got some rules to enforce."

**~A~**

**Four Months Later**

**July 4****th****, 2013 **

**St. Thomas Hospital**

Yeah, it was only a knock-off, but Daisy still spent a pretty penny on her Pucci inspired dress and was glad to finally remove the hideous hospital scrub gown. But the sacrifice was worth it.

From the moment Amanda had texted her that morning, Daisy had flung herself into full-on Lamaze-coach mode. With a majority of the Sons having left several days earlier for a funeral in Indian Hills, Nevada, her very pregnant friend feared her ever-fearsome husband wouldn't make it back for her July third due date. But the baby held off one more day for good measure when Daisy's phone 'dinged' around ten a.m. _**'I think this is it. Can you come over?'**_

Remaining very much in control, remarkably calm and, of course, fashionably dressed, Daisy raced her pale, blue Jag over to Amanda's house – arriving a little past ten thirty to find her friend sitting at the kitchen table, a small packed duffel on the floor and her cell in her hand. "My water finally broke. I just texted Hap. Waiting for a reply. Can you call Gemma for me?"

There wasn't anything Daisy wouldn't do for her very best friend, but asking her to call 'that woman' was borderline deal-breaker. She knew. Somehow Gemma knew. Just like Amanda did. Four months of adhering to Tig's 'rules' about their clandestine, off-the-record relationship was getting hard to fly past two women who weren't born yesterday. Amanda suspected, even dropped subtle hints to which Daisy supplied even more subtle replies. And like Daisy respected her friend's request all those months ago not to question her involvement with the club, Amanda – in turn – did the same thing about her assumptions regarding Tig.

In the four months since she agreed to Tig's terms of their involvement, she had found herself having to be in his presence along with the rest of the club three times. Easter found itself early this year on March 31st and the club opted for an open house for family, friends and legitimate business associates. Knowing she wouldn't be flying home to Connecticut, Amanda instantly invited Daisy to which she passed onto Tig.

"_Looks like we'll have to avoid each other in public," she had told him after a particularly fast and furious session. "Amanda invited me to Easter at the club."_

_Laying on his back, Tig was catching his breath as he thought. "Yeah. A'ight. Shouldn't be a problem. Oswald'll be there. It'll look like it's just business."_

"_If I didn't know better I'd say you're ashamed of me."_

_He grabbed a fistful of her hair and gently pulled her head towards his. "Ain't that doll-face and you know it."_

"_I know," she resigned. "The rules."_

_He rolled on top of her, pinning her shoulders to the mattress. "Here's some more for you to follow. Easter – you stick by Amanda. You're asked to help – you help. You're asked to clean – you clean. I'll check up on you, but we don't interact like we're…."_

"_Together?" _

_He sighed heavily. "Daze…this gonna be a problem? Tell me now…"_

"_No. It's fine. I get it." She rolled out from under him and away. "I don't want anyone thinking I'm with you either."_

_A hard slap on her bare ass caused her to yelp. "Hey!"_

"_You behave Easter or that ass'll see more of my hand."_

_Somehow, that turned her on_

Bringing herself back to her present situation, Daisy's lifted phone off the cradle and punched in the numbers Amanda called off.

"_Is it time?"_ Gemma asked instead of 'hello'.

"Yes, Gemma. As a matter of fact it is."

There was a pause of silence first. _"Who's this?"_

"Daisy. Amanda texted me earlier. I just got here. Her water broke. I'm taking her to the hospital, so you can meet us there." Amanda flashed Daisy an '_oh, God!'_ look after she said that.

"_I'm leaving right now,"_ Gemma said_. "I'll be waiting when__ you__ get there."_

Daisy hung up as Amanda propped herself up out of the chair. "I'm guessing she didn't like you being notified first."

Taking her friend's bag and arm, Daisy led her to the door. "She just doesn't like me period."

"It's not like she wasn't warned. I told Gemma I wanted you there in case Hap couldn't be."

"Did you hear back? Are they gonna make it in time?"

Amanda smirked. "_They?"_

"You know what I mean," Daisy corrected herself. Amanda still couldn't help digging subtly that Daisy might actually miss Tig during his absence. And over the past four months, she had to endure several times where she didn't see nor hear from him. But she stuck to the rules and filled her days with work, her evenings with redecorating each room of the house a little at a time with some color, spending time with her friend when her husband was away and becoming a frequent online shopper at La Perla. She secretly loved wearing naughty lingerie under her Klein, Karan and Lauren wardrobe.

"He thinks they're ready to leave by eleven. Got at least a three hour ride," Amanda, said rubbing her very large belly. "Let's hope this little bugger holds out."

Unfortunately, he didn't. Almost four hours later, Daisy was pulling her sterile gown off as Amanda sat up in the delivery room – her baby son cradled in her arms. She had never experienced anything so incredible in her life and felt honored having a part in this.

However, she was quickly reminded just where she ranked. "They made it." Gemma pulled away from the window where she saw a string of bikes pull into the parking lot. She bent down and kissed both Amanda and baby on the head . "I'll go meet them. Tell them everything's fine."

"Not the sex," Amanda told her. "I want Hap to do it."

Straightening up to leave, Gemma grabbed her purse and brushed past Daisy. "Don't worry. Grandma's got it under control." Translation_: 'I still have the important role around here'. _

Finally alone, Daisy took the opportunity to really look at the little bundle she helped coach out. A sand-tipped nail every-so-gently caressed his cheek. "He's so beautiful, Amanda."

"He's a miracle," she replied, holding the baby out. "You want to hold him."

Daisy put her hands up. "Oh, no. I shouldn't. Your husband should be the first."

"But you're his auntie."

"I…..I am?" Daisy's mouth dropped. "Really?"

Amanda nodded. "Along with Auntie Tara, Auntie Lyla and Auntie Eve. I need an 'auntie army' as vast as possible to offset General Grandma Gemma."

Both women shared a laugh before Daisy began to mist up. "Thank you. Thank you for having me be part of this."

Amanda took her hand. "Thank you for being there. Not just this morning and now, but…..whenever. Wherever. Just…..promise me that you'll be as happy as I am right now?"

Before she could answer, heavy footsteps walked in. Even after all this time of being in this man's presence, the sight of Amanda's creepy looking husband still made her uneasy. Without being asked, she backed away, allowing husband, wife and newborn child their first moment of privacy. Grabbing her purse, she offered a warm smile as she walked past him. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," he offered, before stopping her. "Hey?"

Daisy turned around. "Yes?"

"Thank you," he said, pointing towards the bed. "For bein' there for my wife."

Nodding, Daisy high-tailed it out of the room only to find the hallway suddenly filled with bikers. First, she passed Gemma, Clay and Jax who offered her a pleasant smile. Having broken past her cinnamon-tea-only routine, Daisy suddenly yearned for coffee and quickly found the elevator – but not before spotting a group of more bikers waiting in a room next to it. Upon seeing one in particular, her heart pounded as she quickly backed away to pushed the 'down' button – not realizing she had been noticed.

"What're you doin' here?" Tig asked.

Spine as stiff as a board, chin high and looking as calm and in control as one could after helping someone deliver a baby, she politely answered. "I was in the delivery room with Amanda."

"She done?"

"Yes, she is."

"Where you goin'?"

"To the cafeteria to get coffee."

Their cryptic question and answer game went on with Daisy not even looking at him as she waited for the elevator. "You comin' back?"

Looking around the corner at the mass of bikers waiting, she flitted her eyes at him. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Tig looked back at his waiting brothers then back at her. "Yeah. It isn't. Best keep it this way."

The elevator finally arrived and Daisy walked between the doors. Turning she pressed the button and looked at Tig. "I know the rules, after all."

Before the doors fully closed, Tig's arm shot out and pried them back open. Stepping in the elevator car, he pressed the button again for the main floor and waited for the doors to close. Once they did, he had Daisy by the arms and flattened against the wall. "Little sarcastic aren't we?"

Daisy's faux struggle against him was useless. "Not now. Not…..here."

"You gonna be home tonight?" he whispered against her neck.

"Yes," she whispered right back.

"Want some company?"

She shrugged, trying to act unaffected. "Whatever."

He glared down at her with those electric blue eyes as his hand slid down her Pucci dress until it found her tight little ass. "Let me make up your mind for ya," he said before kissing her – hard, rough, his hot, dirty body from a three hour ride pressed up tight against her, pinning her to the wall. He made sure she felt every single inch of him – literally and figuratively.

The elevator bell rang, indicating they were on the main floor as Daisy properly pushed him away. Giving each other a breathless look, the doors opened and Daisy walked out as untouched and dignified as she could – walking away without even looking back at him.

"Later, doll," he called out before going back up.

**~A~**

Tig arrived back on the maternity floor, joining Gemma, Clay and Jax near the nurse's station. "Well….what she have?"

Jax flashed him a look. "How do you know she had it yet?"

"Never said I did."

Gemma smirked. "Let me guess – a certain little stiff- ass told you. Saw you by the elevator."

"Jesus Christ, so what?"

Putting an arm around his shoulder, Gemma gave him a tender hug. "I get it," she whispered. "You two are on the down-low. Whatever. But you can only sneak around so much, Tigger. For what it's worth – yeah, she can be a snooty, little priss, but…she did good in there. She's loyal and Amanda's lucky to have her as a friend. Just sayin'."

"Gem," he replied, kissing her on the cheek. "Got no idea what you're talkin' about."

"Yeah, yeah," she drawled out.

"Yeah, yeah yourself…..grandma."

"Hey," Jax said, as Happy came out.

Tig put two fingers in his mouth and sharply whistled – sending the heads of everyone on the floor spinning in their direction. Out from the waiting room came the rest of the guys who joined the little group for the announcement as the president addressed him first. "Well?"

A rare smile split the face of Redwood's sergeant. "It's a boy," he announced, as cheers went up, again causing curious stares all around.

"Name?" Jax asked.

Hap's eyes regarded the club's former president, not to mention his father-in-law, as he divulged the answer. "William Clarence Lowman."

There wasn't an un-misted eye in the bunch.

**~A~**

**Later That Evening**

Beer in her fridge was something to get used as it was having an outlaw biker with a prison record in her bed. Pouring herself a glass of white wine, the sound of a bike pulling up in her driveway around nine p.m. made her shiver under her new, soft, purple robe which covered a lavender and black lace ensemble from Agent Provacateur. With the backdoor unlocked, she stood by the counter, waiting for him to come in. Even after four months of rules, cryptic phone calls, after-hour meetups and hot, dirty sex, she was still somehow sickly addicted to this man whom she still tried to secretly detest.

**~A~**

"Thought you'd be waitin' in bed," Tig said as soon as he came in.

Belting her robe, she turned around, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. "I'm not tired," she said, motioning to the fridge. "Grab a beer if you want."

After almost a week away, and what transpired between them in the elevator, he expected her to be all over him. But she stood there – tall, lean and utterly beautiful in deep purple and long, lush hair spilling down her breasts – casually drinking her wine.

"Ain't thirsty," he said, going for the belt of her robe. "Hungry instead."

She smirked in her glass. "Didn't you eat?"

"Yeah," he nuzzled her neck, taking in the scent of sandlewood which made his head spin. She obviously soaked in a nice, hot bath filled with it which meant every inch of her smelled like it. "Now I want somethin' sweet." He pulled at the belt, but she gently pushed him away, causing his eyes to narrow. "What're you doin', Daze?"

Putting her wineglass down, she slowly untied the belt, revealing the alluring outfit underneath. "This…._.sweet_ enough for you?"

"Holy, fuckin' shit," he murmured. A hand reached inside her robe and around the smooth, small curve of her back until it slid down over her ass. "Tell me you didn't have this on underneath in the elevator."

"And what if I did?"

Roughly, he grabbed her bottom with both hands before they slid up her front to capture her small tits perfectly displayed in the push-up bra. "When did you become such a smart-ass bitch?"

Her arms came up to wrap around his neck. "If I am, whose fault is it?"

"Answerin' my questions with questions?"

"Am I doing that?"

"Shut up," he said, as he kissed her hard to make sure she did. Lips, tongues, hands couldn't consume each other enough as they didn't even have the time to make it to the bedroom. The kitchen counter had to do as he spun her around away from him.

"In the kitchen?" she gasped. "Really?"

"Did it everywhere else. Why not?" he said, lifting her robe and roughly pulling her panties down.

"Easy, Tig. Those were expensive."

"Then quit buyin' shit that's gonna get you fucked all over the house," he shot back as he undid his buckle and zipper.

It was hard, it was fast, it was a week away surrounded by Indian Hills infamous 'pussy stable'. Yeah they were young, perfect, pink and tight. But they didn't give him attitude that amused him, legs that wrapped twice around him, hair he wanted to bury himself in and a smartly dressed outer shell which drove him crazy as to what was underneath. That's what Miss Daisy McKay had done to him, the little stiff-assed bitch. Whatever he doled out, she took and gave back with her own brand of polite sarcasm that kept pulling him back in deeper for more. And the more he stressed keeping distance, the more he thought an unknown blowjob might snap him back, the more he kept piling on more rules that she just abided by without a care, the more he began to realize that this little arrangement was becoming more than what it started out to be.

Club business was good – the legitimate stuff was up and running. The garage, repo/auction, bar and grill and now talk of expanding Oswald's farm to include storage units and dog kennels were keeping everyone comfortable in green, while liaisoning with Sutter Creek's monthly runs quenched the need for off-grid action. More and more he found himself home by a regular hour rather than lingering down the clubhouse for one crisis or another like it used to be. At first, Tig chalked it up to the dog as Sasha was pretty much now a mainstay at his house since his landlord's heart attack last month. And with his son not wanting to take over running the package store, Tig brought up the prospect of the club purchasing it. It's focal point right on the main road, combined with being the main booze supplier to all the NorCal charters would be easy, instant money.

Things were settling in and settling down, which gave him too much time to think about things that were never a thought before. Still, something kept him from jumping into anything too personal too soon. Some things still had wait until he had not a question in his mind. But he knew this thing between him and Daisy couldn't go on like this forever. He knew she wasn't going anywhere and needed to make sure of it without any permanent commitment.

Pulling her back and forth, he drew in the delicious feel of her around him as her sounds of pleasure boasted his male pride. Tensing up, he held back until he heard that special sound she made when she came, one that his body was in tune with, one that no other man better never, ever hear before he orgasmed himself.

After a few moments, he pulled her head back and kissed her. "Gemma said you did good today."

"She did?"

"Yeah. Proud of ya. There for Hap's ol' lady when he couldn't be."

"She's my friend. I'd do anything for her."

Just _her_?"

It just came out. Gemma said she was loyal to the bone and Tig wanted to know just how deep that loyalty of Daisy's went. "No. Not _just _her. I think you know that."

"Think I'll take that beer now," he said, stepping back away from her.

She shimmied her panties up before re-tying her robe closed. "Charming as always," she said, opening the fridge.

That attitude. He loved it.

"C'mere," he said.

She held the bottle up to him. "Yes?"

He took it and put it on the counter before removing a chain around his neck. "Here," he said, putting it around hers.

Eyes wide, she lifted the circular, silver medallion hanging from it. "What is it?"

"Marines symbol engraved on the front," he said. "My dog tag info on the back."

She rubbed it between her fingers. "I remember you mentioning you served," she said. "I always saw this on you, but didn't question it - you know….following the rules."

"Yeah well, it's yours. Wear it."

"Why?"

"What happened to 'no questions'?"

"Does this mean we're going steady?"

"Jesus," he blew out. "Just say 'thank you'."

Defiantly, she shook her head. "Sorry. I'm breaking a rule. Please. Tell me why?"

Again, with that sincere pleading he couldn't help but give into, which was bad. Very bad. But he wasn't that ignorant of a man to realize that chicks needed a reason for every little, fucking thing. "Because I want ya to have somethin' of mine. Just wear it, okay Daze? It belongs to me. Now it belongs to you."

He couldn't give her a crow, but knew he needed something which symbolized whatever it was they had without coming right out and saying it – that her wearing something that belongs to him meant _she_ belonged to him.

Small steps, but it was a start.

**~The End~**


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